


Salvation

by BBR



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: F/M, Fix-It, Fluff and Angst, Murder Mystery, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-10
Updated: 2017-06-05
Packaged: 2018-05-19 10:08:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 44,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5963401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BBR/pseuds/BBR
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I started this before the season 2 finale. It followed canon for a while, and it still does in some ways, but I've been doing my own thing mainly since chapter 5. A fix-it fic for all of us flaurel fans who need more of those two to make it through 6 months. of hiatus. <br/>Starts off with Laurel learning the truth about Rebecca's death, moves along until Frank disappears and how she finds him. </p><p>I'm not a writer. I'm just a fan with theories. Just someone getting ideas out on a screen before they consume me. First fanfiction ever. Kudos, comments, constructive criticism and ideas on how to improve are greatly appreciated. </p><p>Please excuse any grammatical mistakes or typos. English is not my first language although I try my best not to use that as an excuse. You are welcome to correct me on comments.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Salvation

**Salvation**

It had been at least 45 minutes since he left the hospital after seeing Annalise. He knew Laurel was at the Hapstall mansion earlier that night, and he was trying to understand what had happened that caused Annalise to call, ordering him to take care of Catherine. He knew something had gone wrong with the plan of framing her. He had tried to reach Laurel, unsuccessfully. Had she shot Annalise? If so, had she covered her hands? cleaned the gun? Was that a part of the plan? He was almost sure Annalise would have instructed her correctly, if she had had time, but on the stomach? _"She wouldn't have shot her to kill her...no, she couldn't."_ He needed answers.

His concern increased by the minute, since Philip was still out there. Finally, Frank heard a noise outside. He peeked through the peephole and quickly opened the door, eager to see her. The moment she saw him, Laurel brought up all the strength left over after a draining night, and slapped him hard, marking his face.

\- the hell was that for?? -  he said, covering the burning sensation on his left cheek.

\- YOU LIED TO ME!!

She had rage in her eyes. Laurel burst into his apartment, her voice a mix of sob and anger, pain and sorrow. She walked from side to side in the living room, trying to collect her thoughts, her headache pulsing on her temples.

\- What?! What is this about?!  
\- Stop! Just stop pretending! How could you do that to her?! and to me?!  
\- Do what? Laurel… - he took small steps towards her, carefully. Frank had never seen her so shaken up, not even the night after Sam died.  
\- Stay away from me!!!!

Laurel moved backwards, trying to breathe. “ _Fine, he wants to play, bluff, keep pretending he doesn’t know what I’m talking about, let’s play, then!”._ She lowered her eyes and took a deep breath. She was determined to get it all out, make him admit it to her. He owed her that. Laurel walked until she was face to face with him.

\- Rebecca’s dead, Frank. Annalise told us everything. You killed her! - Laurel’s voice trailed off as tears streamed down her cheeks.

Frank couldn’t look at her. Of course, Annalise had to try to mess with his life, their lives, because she was losing control, Frank thought. This time, he was innocent, at least from the worse. But he had still lied to her, her anger was justified.

\- She told you I killed Rebecca? Or are you just so sure I did that it doesn’t even matter what I say?

His response caught her off-guard. " _Is he going to keep denying?"_

\- Answer me! - Frank yelled, making Laurel jolt back. - Did she say I killed Rebecca? Or is that what you think?

\- I'm going to ask you for the last time, Frank... Did you or did you not kill her?

They were a few feet apart, looking at each other, defying each other, separated only by the coffee table, as if this was a wrestling match.

\- I already told you I didn’t.

Laurel knew what she had to do. She needed to know exactly what happened and he was her key witness. It was time to pull it together and handle him.

\- You also told me she ran away! How am I supposed to believe a word you say? Just because we’re getting to know each other, it doesn’t mean you’re actually telling me the truth about anything, does it Frank? What other lies have you told me? How can you say you care about me and lie to me so effortlessly? I mean, was that even your real family? Or was all that cash in the suitcase used to pay them to play a part for a night? It’s so clear now...

\- The hell are you talking about? - Frank said over her words, but she didn’t stop talking, not for a second.

\- ... just so poor little Laurel falls for you and stops asking you damn questions and you get to lie freely…

\- Shut it, Laurel!

\- ...Did you shoot her? Did you run her over? Did you strangle her? And where is her body, Frank?

- Enough!

She felt a rush of adrenaline run through her veins, prompting her to ask him a million questions, cross examine him with loaded questions, using the techniques she’d seen in court, messing with his emotions to provoke, make him spit out the truth.

\- Where did you dump the body, Frank? I can’t even believe I fell for the whole dinner joke, conveniently when I was starting to believe Wes!! God, you do think of everything! What better way to get me to trust you then introduce me to your family? I’m such a dummy, like you said it yourself! It’s so obvious!

She would be good at trial. _He’s going to talk. He is disturbed, I can tell!_ \- Thought Laurel.

He walked over to get a glass of whiskey, to shut down the pain of seeing her like this. Frank knew there was nothing he could say right now that would make her believe him and he didn't want to lie anymore. _"I have to tell her the truth, I can't keep doing this"._ Frank was losing it, and they both knew it.

  
\- Tell me the truth, Frank! - she screamed.

  
Laurel had one more thing to say, hoping it would drive him over the edge. If anything they had was real, it should work.

  
\- I get it. You can’t tell me, because then I’ll know your M.O., right? I'll know your bad secrets?  You have no feelings for me, none! And who is next, Wes? Or... - She took a deep breath and squinted her eyes - Or is it me? You’re going to kill me next, aren’t you? strangle me to death? Shoot me? Poison me?

Frank threw the whiskey glass on the kitchen sink and grabbed her shoulder, pushing her against the wall. Laurel stopped talking, frozen in fear. He slurred the words an inch away from her face, the tears and the lack of air making it hard for him to show any control over his emotions. He had lost it.

  
\- Bonnie killed her! She strangled Rebecca with a plastic bag in the basement that same day! I carried the body to the cemetery. There's your truth! I had no choice, as I have no choice of denying anything Annalise asks me. Yes, I lied to you, I knew she was dead, so if you don’t want to ever look at me, fine! I get it! I deserve it! But don’t you ever fucking say I would hurt you, Laurel, because God only knows I’d rather die myself than have to lay a finger on you. I knew you and Waitlist were onto something, and you were close, so I saw Bruno at the cemetery, told him to deny it and make up the whole locker story. Then I put the damn money in the suitcase, to throw you off. The suitcase with the money is in my closet, right there! Now don't you bring up my feelings for you because I have been trying to protect you and show you how much I care about you like I never did before, to anyone! And yes, that _was_ my family, my whole entire fucking family, and they adooored you, so if you insist that’s a lie, go there right now and tell them your theory. Ask them whatever, curse at them and spare them the disappointment of you not caring a rat’s ass about my life and theirs! 

He let out a loud breath after saying it all. In a split second, Frank let her go, realizing he was grasping her shoulder too tightly, and fell on his knees.

  
\- I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. Not now, not before. - he said, afraid he had accidentally hurt her.

Laurel slid down against the wall, to the floor next to him. _Bonnie?_   _How could she?_ Her body felt a thousand times lighter as she had heard a better version of the truth than she expected it. She didn’t need proof for Frank’s words, she just knew it was the truth. It made sense, because she remembered Bonnie going down to the basement to try and talk to Rebecca. And no one had seen Rebecca since then. She was angry he lied, disgusted that he got rid of the body. But so had she, in a worse way, and she hadn’t told him about it, either. So she sat there, watching him breathe heavily. Frank finally looked up, directing his eyes straight to her shoulders, searching for red marks or bruises.

-I’m fine. You didn’t hurt me. - she said, realizing he was worried.  
\- I’m sorry.  
\- I hurt you, though.

He squinted, confused.

\- You have four fingers on your cheek.  
\- I‘ts alright. I deserved it.  
\- Yea, you did. Don’t lie to me again, Frank.  
\- I didn’t mean to. I didn’t have a choice. I had to protect you, If I had told you, you would have told Waitlist and Annalise and Bonnie would retaliate against me. Against you.

Laurel reached for his hand and with her other hand she slowly touched his face, feeling the marks she had left.

\- Thank you for protecting me, as I’m sure you did tonight, too.

Before she even had the chance to ask, Frank went ahead and spoke what she wanted to know.

\- No, I did not kill Catherine. She’s fine, I swear.

Laurel smiled, realizing he had read her mind.

\- Frank...do you think Annalise is going to be okay?   
\- I don’t know. We’re just gonna have to wait. I know you’re not very good at that, but I’m gonna help you through it. But first you need to tell me what happened. Every bit of it.

\- Okay. I don't even know where to begin. Nate helped us...and...uh...

\- Just rest for now, kay? We will talk about it soon.

They stared at each other in silence and slowly lowered themselves to lay on the cold hardwood floor, numb with everything that had happened. Laurel rested her head against his chest, hearing his heart beat frantically, fast.

\- Your heart sounds like it’s going to pop out of your chest any second.  
\- Yea? he sighed. - So don’t hate me, and it will be back to normal soon.  
\- I don’t hate you. You’re always saving my ass.

Frank chuckled and stroke her hair.

\- Nah, you’re the one saving me, more than you know.

Laurel moved herself up to look at him and again they locked their gaze, only broken by the need to kiss.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank and Laurel work together to make sure everything and everyone is on the same page about the night at the Hapstall mansion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My idea is just to give us more. More Flaurel, more interaction, more feelings, and my take on what they would do, think or say. Episodes are too short.  
> This is just me pretending there were more conversations, decisions and interaction than they have time to show. Therefore this will be written, if possible, in between episodes following the discoveries we find out throughout season 2.  
> Feel free to suggest anything in the comments, criticize and/or compliment. If it's constructive, it means a lot.

**Chapter 2**

Laurel and Frank woke up on the floor with a distant sound of a ring. Frank felt his pockets, looking for his phone.  He sat up and answered, uneasy, after he read Bonnie’s name from the called ID. Laurel held her breath, trying to prepare herself. It felt like he was on the phone for an hour before she finally saw him nod and sigh in relief when he heard Bonnie say Annelise was out of surgery. The doctors were optimistic about her recovery. Laurel needed these news to start thinking straight.  

- Still delicate stage, but she should recover.

Obviously an amateur to not kill shooting so close. _"Emotion based, desultory shot"_  Frank thought, gazing at her. He watched her stand up, put on his shirt and tie her hair in a bun. He looked at her clothes and her hands, searching for signs, a bruise, gunpowder, a tear. _"Probably easier to just ask her",_ he thought. But he couldn't. 

\- Frank...I need to tell you everything. Before the police show up here. If Annalise is going to be okay, then we need to be on the same page about everything.

As much as he wanted her to rest, he knew she was right. That is why he had picked her, the calm after the storm, the Castillo genes being dominant, no matter how much she fiercely denied. They had to sort things out and think of every possible outcome before the cops caught them unprepared, and she had her game face on. Frank couldn’t help feeling this mix of pride and desire.

- I don’t think screwing you in the basement had me as turned on as I am right now.

She laughed for the first time after the previous night.

\- Well, we STILL don’t want to go to jail, so unless you want me to be _closed for business_ because I’m behind bars, you better focus.

She had to think, recall everything, try to be clear and straightforward, but she could sense that Frank was attracted to that. Laurel knew that sex would feel great at that moment, it would relax every muscle on her body, and orgasming would feel like an easy triumph, a much needed one. She knew she shouldn’t make eye contact because it would be hard to not give in to his begging thirsty eyes, but she gazed right at him. There was another stronger reason she had to resist. She could go closer to him, she thought, tell him in a soft voice, make eye contact and touch him, make him promise he wouldn’t freak out. _“That wouldn’t work because you can’t pull off that needy, sensitive, scared little girl schtick, not with him...h_ _e’s probably going to shoot me when he knows I protected Wes”_. 

\- What happened, Laurel? - He said, interrupting her thoughts, as if he sense she didn’t know where to begin.

\- I didn’t do it. I didn’t shoot her.

\- Didn’t think you did, he said, sharply, even though secretly relieved. _“Good, she didn’t do it. Good girl. If shit happens...’_

\- But I took the blame. I told Nate it was me, and the others. They think it was me.

\- You did what?? Are you out of your freaking mind???

\- I didn’t want...

\- You told Nate? A cop? That’s your plan?

\- He’s helping us! He won’t tell on me!

\- And you trust him all of a sudden? Who are you protecting??

She paused, breathed in, looked down at her feet. 

\- Wes. - Laurel said as she raised her head, meeting Frank's eyes. 

Frank made a fist on both hands and Laurel backed up a step. _"No, no fucking way._ " It's all he could think.

\- Waitlist? Again? 

Frank walked out of the living room. He needed space, he needed to calm down, to take a second, to not look at her. Laurel didn’t need to explain why he had done it, Frank wasn’t stupid. Knowing Rebecca had been dead would give Wes plenty of reasons to shoot Annalise. She was behind him talking before he had much time to wrap his head around the facts.

\- It was suppose to be a bullet to her leg, in order to make it seem like Catherine did it. But none of us would do it. None of us could. Michaela and Connor left the room, and that’s when Annalise told us about Rebecca. Wes got really angry and shot her on the stomach.

\- Jesus Christ!

\- He was going to kill her, Frank.  - Laurel couldn’t contain her tears once the thoughts all rushed back. The more she told Frank, the faster the memories returned.

\- Why did you take the blame for him??? What did he ever do for you?

\- I don’t know, Gosh, it was all too fast! I took the gun from him because I was afraid he was going to kill her…

\- You touched it??? Shit, Laurel!! Are you a newbie at this???

\- Michaela walked in and I had the gun in my hands. Then I just said I did it.

Frank took a deep breath. He couldn’t show he was afraid of anything, not in front of her. Laurel sat back on the bed, her legs were failing her. She could read him, feel he was scared, angry, even though he was struggling to keep it together. _"It's not fair to ask for his help, not again, not after the trophy, after Connor's car, after Sam's ring."_

\- Frank...

\- Where’s the gun? - he said, surprising her.

\- Wes...Wes threw it in the pool. I told him to. I thought the chlorine…

\- ...would erase all the fingerprints and the cops are dumb enough to not think of looking there in the first place, at least not for a few hours… _”Good, that’s good.”_

He bent down next to her, by the side of the bed, and placed one hand on top of hers.

\- Good thinking, princess. That’s my girl. Now, did Annalise see you take the blame?

\- I don’t know.

\- Okay...she needs to know, so you need to go to the hospital. You need to see her and make sure she knows about this. Make sure she’s on board with this. Now we need to think of everything to get yourself out of this, a’right? It’s gonna be fine, I’m not gonna let anything bad happen to you. But you gotta lemme work...and you need to work with me. Call the rat pack and tell them to come over before they do anything stupid. Invite them for dinner or something. We have to make sure we stick together. But first, go see her.

\- Thank you...once again. 

\- Don't thank me yet. 

\- Stop...take my gratitude. This is our mess, again, and I know that you're involved but, still, thank you.

\- Like I said, I'm not letting anything bad happen to you. Even if it's the last thing I do.

Laurel felt comforted. She kept telling Frank the details of Annelise’s plan while they went through every ritual to make sure everything was clean. They picked up her clothes, throwing them in the washing machine. Laurel wiped her shoes with alcohol and jumped in the shower. Even if she hadn’t shot her, there could be traces of gunpowder. This was going to have to work, once again they would need to free Annalise and the Keating five.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is Laurel's mind and my take on the transformation happening with her character.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Just edited again for typos and silly mistakes.   
> *Hey guys, I edited this to end a different way around 7:00 pm , so read it again if you read it before that. Sorry.  
> I decided not to include everything we saw on the episodes, especially 2-11 and 2-12, because I didn't want to be repetitive. We saw it, we liked it and certain things we want to forget. I don't follow exactly everything that happens, but since the beginning, my idea here is to have more of these characters, to give more interaction.  
> Hope you enjoy it.

The police never came, at least not for the following weeks. Life getting away with murder continued to exist on autopilot as they dealt with every problem, one at a time, hiding it, fixing it, masking it. To the others, Laurel had shot Annalise, not Wes, and it was better left this way. Annalise managed to strike a deal with Catherine and Caleb, one to somehow support what the keating five had done that night and, not coincidentally, whatever part the Hapstall siblings had on their parents’ death. They didn’t know what Catherine had actually done, and she would probably get an early release for good conduct. With time, however, came grief, discomfort. Every moment came charged with paranoia, regret, guilt, which turned into sleepless nights for Wes; impatience for Michaela, who turned to isolation; hostility for Connor, even more, if possible; obsession for Asher over his father’s death, no haste on denial.

Anxiety and emotions were the order for Laurel. A lot of emotions. She felt her strength fading, she was failing her own perseverance to distance herself from hazy behavior. Coping, plain and simple, no, not simple. The idea of her nature, her genes being bigger than her will crushed her, daily, at every moment of idle thought.

She left the courtroom straight to the bathroom. A mother forgiving her own son’s killer. Touching, caring for him. Goodness at its best. She stood in there, staring blankly at the mirror. She could hear her own breath, could hear the loose sink dripping water, distant chattering outside. Unruly thoughts rushed to her. _5 years in jail for her and none for them_ . _None for Wes, Asher, Bonnie, Frank, nor myself_ , she thought. She couldn’t recognize her own image, her face, her eyes, like when you stare at a screen for too long until it’s all blurred. Two Laurels, two sides. _When do bad people realize they're bad? When do they stop looking at themselves the same way?_ She felt sick. _Ay, deal with these emotions aside, Laurel, stop getting so messed up,_ she thought.  She remembered the high school murderer's case and immediately felt her chest burn as Connor’s words echoed on her mind .. _”Do you actually think that murdering someone is not a big deal anymore?”_ Only one Laurel could win.

 - Hellooo? Laurel? -  she might have not heard Bonnie if it weren’t for her hands waving in front of Laurel’s eyes.

 - Oh, hi... yea?

 - What’s the matter?

Laurel blinked excessively, trying to regain focus of Bonnie’s image, but stared at the sink instead. She did not want to look at Bonnie, she couldn’t.

 - Nothing, I’m.. just...I’ve...I get really bad cramps, just a shooting pain sometimes. Makes me kind of dizzy. I took something, so I’ll be alright once it kicks in.

 - Riiight...well, in case you’re actually thinking about something else, do a better job at it. You look crappy. Get over it, it’s going to work.

Laurel switched her gaze from the sink to Bonnie’s eyes, defying.

 - Yeah, YOU should know. It always works out, doesn’t it?

 - What do you mean?

 - Just saying that you, Annalise and Frank always find a way out of everything, don't you?

\- What are you implying?

\- Implying? Nothing. I’m just mentally considering the years of experience you have at this kind of situation and how you can, rightfully so, tell me to calm down because it always works out, which is exactly what just went down. - she spoke on a cheerful tone, showing a half-smile at the sound of her last word.

Bonnie kept the eye contact, but Laurel wasn’t going to quit on this one.

 - Good, then. Glad you’re listening. I have to go. You should, too. - Bonnie said, taking steps back. 

 - I’ll be right out. No need to wait.

With that, Bonnie walked away, taking one last annoyed looked at Laurel, who wiggled her fingers on a discrete wave. The distraction caused her to bump into Frank.

 - Woah, easy there!! In a hurry?

 - You! What the hell did you tell Laurel?

\- What?

\- She just basically nailed me in the bathroom...Did you tell her? About Rebecca?

\- Think I would?

\- I think that you’re in deep enough to start questioning who you’re loyal to.

\- You’re wrong. She’s probably just freaking now, got her period or something.

\- Yea, she is definitely not herself in the bathroom but I’m not sure…

_“Hi There”_ Laurel’s voice interrupted behind them both.

\- Frank, you’re ready to go?

 - uh...sure. Later, Bon. - Frank said, raising an eyebrow to Laurel, happy she had impeded the conversation from going on.

 - Yea, catch you later, Bonnie. - said Laurel, turning away and walking ahead, chin up.

Frank grabbed Laurel’s arm, gently pushing her away, a mock grin on her lips, which confirmed what he already knew...that the choice of words weren’t random. Plenty of ways to say goodbye with having to use the word ‘catch’, and worse, he was positive Bonnie was aware of that as well. He could sense something was off with Laurel, something had shifted inside of her to drive her mood from resting on his chest to an increasing dissatisfaction with anything that surrounded her. He tried to get her to talk on the way home but got nothing besides monosyllabic answers.

A few days passed since she had heard about Rebecca. Laurel grew increasingly peevish, aloof, empty. She constantly zoned out of the conversations on Annalise’s living room, no comment, no opinion, she just stared. The shooting was on the back of her mind, like awake nightmares frequently forcing her to vehemently blink to get rid of them. She couldn’t erase that night. Things would never be the same, regardless of them getting away. Wes was weak, doomed, broken, and so was she. If she didn’t have the privilege to lay in bed all day, he couldn’t either, she was determined to not let that happen.

Laurel was scared of the hole people dug and let themselves in, she had spent her adolescence pulling herself out several times. Or being pulled out. But they were all broken. She watched Asher try to make sense of everything, engage into a search for a purpose of his father’s death, grieve; She felt sorry for Oliver, mentally grilled Connor for dragging him into this mess...or had them all dragged him?; she exchanged sharp remarks with Bonnie, constantly; she provoked Michaela and laughed at her desperate need to detach from everyone, her passive attitude towards Caleb.

Passivity. That’s what had driven her over the hedge. It all started with Annalise’s passivity towards Wes being locked up in the Psych ward. Wes’s passivity towards Annalise blaming him for what was her idea. Frank’s passivity after what Bonnie did, after every single one of Annalise’s orders. Dios mio, everyone’s passivity towards Annalise. She confronted her, got herself fired from replacing Bonnie, but Laurel had stopped caring. Lies don’t bring people closer, certainly not. They just seem to do. But this behavioral pattern, this collective numbness needed to stop and she was hollow enough to be the martyr.

In a matter of days, life was a turmoil. Her quest for answers had swept away anything positive left in her. She had pressured Frank again, this time without any anger or court skills, just her naked soul begging for him to tell her the truth, give her a reason to continue falling for him. She had gotten her answers and they were never what she expected, they were far more than she wanted. Three words, were powerful, aggressive, piercing and the weight they carried had exponentially wrenched her heart. He killed Lila and his confession killed her too.

Seeing Frank everyday was gut wrenching. He had insistently texted her, reached out, tried to talk, to pull her to a corner, almost any chance he got. Nothing. Laurel hadn’t even returned a look, a text, nor a touch. She couldn’t believe she was better at avoiding and ignoring than he was, he had had plenty of practice with many students, as she heard. She avoided being alone with him, didn’t approach, maintained at least 2 feet apart as some sort of mental restraining order. And she did it all without anyone noticing, limiting herself to interact only professionally. A mix of wanting to help Wes and Philip’s threat kept her moving, prompted by fear, curiosity, resilience. She knew it could be problematic if she stopped, retreated, she didn’t trust  herself to do so. She had turned off the switch, made the commitment to use her brain, Laurel was working non-stop, functioning on caffeine to wake up and wine to sleep. But her feelings were restless, independently of how much she attempted full domain. Crying herself to sleep always gave her a sense of a lost battle the next day, when she got up and started all over again.

Until the day she gave in, exhausted. Slacking on the couch, she caught Frank’s eyes on her for the tenth time that day. This time, she stared back.

Frank didn’t know how to react. _She really looking at me?_ Without hesitating, he texted her, as fast as he could, before this was all an illusion. She took out her phone, feeling it vibrate. It was really happening, this interaction, and Frank was awake.

 _“You’re looking back at me”,_ she read it, and mouthed ‘yea’ to him. Frank felt his heart rate pick up, he didn’t know what to say, couldn’t believe what was happening. _“Shit, okay, shit...hi? no, don’t say hi, idiot!”,_ Frank thought, writing and rewriting different things on the small lit box. Laurel could see he was nervous, noticed him gulping, mouth probably dry. _”Fuck, tell her the truth, jackass”,_ he decided, didn’t know if he would getting another chance. He didn’t get up from his desk, texted her again, not wanting to get anyone’s attention, just hers. _“I miss you. Been missing you”._ Frank watched her fingers move, but her reply only made him cringe. _“We need to talk, Frank. Tonight.”_


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank tells the truth about Sam.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here you go, guys. Chapter 4. This is my idea on what Sam could have on Frank.  
> This is also a deserved, more real confrontation between both of them, better than those basement confrontations. 
> 
> I'd like to say that I could not have anyone better to edit this chapter, collaborate, help me figure out the plot and support me than Anaranjada, author of the brilliant 'Sinister Kid'. I've thanked you countless times, but once again, thank you! You rock. If you guys haven't checked out her fic, go now! It is amazing.

**Chapter 4**

He overheard them talking about going to a bar, drink, dance, escape; desperation and fear clouding their judgement. A few minutes before they left, Frank felt his phone vibrate again: “Let me know when you get home. I’ll head over. I’ll be a few blocks away.”, she had texted him. “Please let me pick you up when I leave here. Please. It’s not safe.”, he answered, concerned, then watched her take a moment to reply, staring at her phone.Thinking about it. “No. I’ll be fine. Just let me know”. _So predictable_ , Frank thought. _So freaking stubborn_ . He knew he didn’t have the right nor the power to demand anything from her, he doubted he ever did. _Brilliant plan, get wasted when a serial killer is after them. Fucking kids._ He waited impatiently for some time after they left, then grabbed his car keys and headed to the door, without noticing Bonnie’s eyes on him. He was suppose to have stayed, worked late, but he couldn’t control himself. Fear paralyzes any reasoning.

He pulled over in front of the bar, right after their cab, and watched them go inside. He turned his car off and sat there. Hardly two hours into the night, Asher stepped out, arm wrapped around a girl’s neck. _Doucheface. I’m impressed. Rebound girl already_ , he thought. Frank ducked, observing, Asher looked pretty intoxicated by now, but not too far gone. He wasn’t outside for long, just enough time for the girl to smoke a cigarette. Frank kept staring at all corners, looking at every person that went inside, every single car that pulled over. No sign of Philip. He wasn’t sure what his plan was. He was going to text her soon, follow her until his house, say he had to run out to the atm once she saw him pull in while she walked. He really wasn’t sure. Frank’s impulse was just to watch out for Philip, not let her walk alone, and in the meantime perhaps build confidence, prepare what he would say, play it over in his mind, imagine outcomes. It was hard to admit he secretly hoped for her to get too drunk. Change her mind, postpone. It was getting late.

\- Yo, amiga! - Asher said once he was inside, poking Laurel, who turned to face him.

\- What now?

- No need to be sad anymore. Your boo is here, well, one of them.

\- What?

\- Frankie D.

Laurel glanced around the bar, startled.

\- He’s outside, chica. Sitting in his car. Thinks I didn’t see him, probably.

She took a deep breath, annoyed. Her stomach burned with anxiety, reminding her it was time. She took cash out of her bag and handed to Asher.

\- Here. For my shots. And keep an eye at Michaela, she can’t handle the booze. I have to go. - She said, grabbing her jacket from the hook under the bar top and heading to the exit.

\- Hey, wait up!! - Asher ran after her. - Look, I don’t know what happened between you two but that, I mean, waiting outside while you’re out just to make sure you’re safe, that’s fucking love. Go easy on the guy.

\- Yeah, well, he has weird ways of showing love.-

\- Maybe. But at least he’s showing it. I don’t really see you doing much.

Laurel’s heart sank, and she left avoiding the argument. Frank saw her getting out and didn’t even bother ducking. Just by the way she walked, he knew doucheface had told her. _Shit._ She sprinted right to the driver’s window, confrontation happening so quickly Frank didn’t have time to get out of the car, think of what to say, or barely react at all.

\- You don’t think one stalker is enough?

- I can explain…

\- Can you? Can you explain at least one damn thing to me?

\- I’m not stalking you.

\- Really? Then define this situation!

Frank opened the door, stepped out to face her.

\- I didn’t want you to walk to my place alone. You didn’t let me come drive you, so I..

\- You were going to wait until I left and then what? what was the plan here? Stalk me to your place?

\- Okay, just... breathe, a’right? I’m sorry. I was worried, that’s all. I didn’t think, Laurel.

\- I’m so over fighting with you. I’m so tired of this, Frank. You know, maybe I should just go home..

\- No, no, no. Laurel, listen. We..uh, you’re right...this can’t wait anymore. Look at us. I can’t take it. I’m sorry, okay, for stalking you, it’s just that...you...the others, you’re not paying close attention to your surroundings, I mean, the other night you guys opened the door for pizza, just like that…

\- Wait, what?

Frank lowered his gaze, not able to face her. _Fuck._  He felt like a little boy, getting in trouble for talking too much. Laurel scoffed, her face changed to disbelief.

\- What did you just say? You were there??? at the sleepover??

He had to respond quickly, move fast, or he’d lose her. He knew her too well.

\- I wasn’t there for the whole night! I went out for a drink with Bonnie, then drove by just to check on you guys and...and stayed.

\- Oh my God, Frank! How long have you been doing this?

\- A’right, here’s the thing: I’m freaking scared, Laurel. T’s the truth.. just wanted to protect you. And I know you probably don’t need me to. This Philip, though..we don’t know. Couldn’t forgive myself if something happened to you. And I don’t need any more shit in my life to not forgive myself about. I need to tell you everything, want to! So please, even if it’s the last thing I can ask you. Please...get in the car, will ya?

 Frank watched her turn her back to him, take a deep breath, bring her hands to her hair, as if trying that would make her open her mind, think. She tapped her left foot, the minimal contact of the heel on the sidewalk stone. Considering. Analyzing, always analyzing. She said a few words in Spanish, to herself, he was glad he didn’t know the meaning. Then, surprisingly, she walked around to the passenger door while he stared, impressed she had actually agreed. They drove in silence until he pulled in his spot. Laurel asked for the keys, got out of the car quickly and he hurried behind. He didn’t know what to do besides follow her, trying to understand what she wanted, pick up small signals. Laurel went inside, Frank a foot behind her. He stood there, saw her remove her heels, unbutton her tight pants, drop her purse on the kitchen counter.

Every move she made was certain, decisive, and he could only wait for a command. She didn’t say a word, only took firm steps towards the liquor cart, poured a drink and approached him.

- Drink this. You’re going to need it.

He didn’t even hesitate, gulped the whole thing. While he took the glass towards his lips, Frank felt her hands in his pants. She reached for his phone, turning it off, then she turned hers off, placing both on the counter.

\- If we’re going to do this, I don’t want to be interrupted. Not again. - she said, while unplugging the landline. - I don’t carewhat happens outside this apartment tonight. Do you hear me? - Then she sat on the couch, crossed her legs and looked as if she was hugging herself.

\- Yes, ma’am.

\- Whenever you’re ready. I’m here.

Frank had mentally rehearsed this moment throughout the day, but nothing compared to how he had imagined this would go. He hadn’t eaten or slept in days and proof was that one drink had made him drowsy. Now she was the one staring at him, following him like a predator watches its prey. And yet she looked beautiful, harmless. He didn’t know how to begin, what was relevant or what wasn’t, although he suspected she would not settle for anything less than everything. He finally walked over to the seat next to the coffee table, across from the couch and looked over, blinked. _Shit._

A couple of minutes passed, silence louder than their thoughts. It was easy for her, to speak that is, put arguments together, debate. Make a case. It was a gift, came naturally. Receive a message, interpret, feedback, turn other points of view 180 degrees. Persuade. Before it was her job, it was her life. She knew communication wasn’t Frank’s strength **.** So she spoke first, beaten by anxiety.

\- I don’t think anything you say will ever work to justify what you did to Lila. Ever. - Laurel said, startling him. - She was innocent, fragile, pregnant. And you took her breath away, her life. Two lives, in fact. She was someone’s daughter, someone’s niece, a cousin. She had friends and a future. You ruined her parents’ life.

Frank looked sideways, trying to swallow the lump in his throat.

\- I am not willing to forgive you. I am here because you owe me this, an explanation, reasoning,  considering my life and my future started going downhill because of you.

She paused, eyes suddenly filled with tears. She squinted, nodding to herself, giving herself encouragement to continue. Her voice cracked, but she kept going.

\- I know you took care of Lila, for Annalise. I know exactly how it works. I’ve heard the words “take care of it” far too many times, Frank, all of those times they were easily said. And it wasn’t an order to the nannies to fix my brother’s tantrum, let’s put it this way. He just blurted out, these words, followed by a half-smile and a terminated phone call.

Laurel’s voice trailed off and Frank watched as tears streamed down her face.

\- Then he went for a swim in the pool, every fucking time, as if to wash off the dirt inside himself. - She scoffed, still unable to believe her own words. -Then he had a drink. Hugged my mother. Played with me for 2 minutes. That’s how long it took him to move on with his life! But to me... shit, to me, it lingered. It wipes out a soul, Frank, this feeling of not knowing why people do bad things, why they chose this life. Why some people must die because it’s the easy way out for some, and gone without without a trace of reasoning for others. It rips you apart. So you need to at least tell me why, because I didn’t leave Florida to live through this again. So talk. Tell me why.

Frank closed his eyes, that awful feeling of remembering everything, accessing that memory inside his brain,bringing it back to the present, consuming every strength on his body. He managed to begin, barely getting a word out.

\- Sam.

\- What?

 -I owed Sam. I did it for Sam. He had something on me. Annalise doesn’t know.

Laurel’s heart beat faster.

 -10 years ago, I went to Ohio with Annalise, to help on a case.

Laurel’s head started spinning. Could this be happening? A million thoughts, facts and theories raced through her mind, she couldn’t think properly, couldn’t manage her composure anymore. Frank kept talking without her having to intercede. She started shaking, expecting the worse, his involvement on Rose’s death. _Dios, no, por favor, no,_ she repeated over and over in her mind.

 - Annalise was ...uh...pregnant. _Very_ pregnant.

 - What? - She snapped out of it.

 - Yeah. Sam gave me a bonus, some cash, to keep an eye on her, you know, not let her go above and beyond in these cases, take her to the hospital if I thought she wasn’t okay, that stuff. Tough case, dunno, sort of remember it was hard. The witness ended up killing herself to not testify. Left a son behind, alone, poor kid.

Laurel suddenly realized Frank didn’t know a thing about Wes and she let out a sigh of relief so loud it made Frank lookup. He’d been staring at the floor the whole time.

 - So...you, uh, you didn’t do anything in that case? Didn’t take care of anything?

 - Me? No! I got the day off the day she died. Heard it afterwards she killed herself. Kid found her dead.

 - Right.

She felt part of the tension escape her body after hearing Frank hadn’t killed Rose like she had pictured seconds ago, as if she unexpectedly healed from a high fever. 

\- Like I said, Annalise gave me that day off. I was just a dumb kid, young, had new clothes, nice job - he scoffed, embarrassed. - so I went to get wasted, find, uh, some company for the night. - Frank said as he looked over at her. - Sorry I gotta tell you these details...I, uh, would probably not want to hear if it were you.

 - I think we have bigger issues than who you screwed ten years ago, Frank. - She said, sharply, he almost laughed.

 - So I met her, at a bar. We drank, went back to my hotel room. Smoked a joint.

His voice failed him, and he let out a groan, breathing over it while Laurel watched, hooked as if this was an urban legend myth being told by a bonfire at camp.

 - Then what happened, Frank?

 - We, uh, took a hit. Cocaine. She did a lot. Told her to stop, cut it out, but she didn’t listen. Got annoyed at me, went to the bathroom. All I heard was the water running, figured she wanted to, you know, clean herself after sex.

Frank let out a sob, covered his face with his hands, and rested his elbows on his knees. Laurel felt a sharp pain watching it, an urge to run, hug him, comfort him. She had never done that. It had always been the other way around. 

\- I must have been really high, because time passed. Little, a lot, dunno how long. I remember listening to music, dancing...like I said, I was obviously high. Then I noticed the water wetting the carpet in the bedroom. kept knocking like crazy on the bathroom door, hard, but she...she didn’t respond. So I kicked it open, and there she was, face down in the tub, blue.

Laurel covered her mouth with both hands, feeling her breath pick up pace. 

\- Oh my God, Frank. She...she...- Laurel said, wiping her own tears, and Frank nodded.

 - ODed. Yeah. 

\- Please tell me you called the police. You didn’t do anything.

Frank shook his head.

 - Panicked. I called Sam.

 - Sam?? I thought you said you were in Ohio.

 - I was. We were. He texted me earlier, said they were flying in. Wanted to surprise Annalise, support her with the case, whatever. 

\- They?

\- He brought Bonnie, Laurel.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 5. Continuing the confrontation to what happened to Annalise's baby.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, I'd like to say that I could not have anyone better to edit this chapter, collaborate, help me figure out the plot and support me than Anaranjada, author of the brilliant 'Sinister Kid'. I've thanked you countless times, but once again, thank you! You rock. If you guys haven't checked out her fic, go now! It is amazing.

  
Laurel forced her way up from the couch, not knowing what to do with herself. She was surprised she had managed to sit for that long. But Frank was now determined to get it all out, he couldn’t focus on her reactions, not even the clear signs of confusion and dismay.  
\- She was a student. Annalise’s favorite. Sam’s favorite too, in fact. Smart, brilliant, calm, helpful. Kinda like you, actually.  
She stopped pacing, walked straight to him, lowered her gaze to meet his eyes, and murmured angrily, fearless, fingertip right to his face.  
\- Don’t you ever say that again! I’m not a killer!  
\- A’right, I didn’t mean it like that. M’sorry.

He deviated his look from her one more time, tried to recover his train of thought. Once again he rested his forehead on his hands, forearms on his thighs, defeated. Sam and Bonnie had gotten to the motel room to find a distressed Frank, standing on the corner, shaking and completely lost. Sam was already angry, didn’t have it in his mind to be drive to see Frank as soon as he landed. Bonnie stood by the bathroom door, watching the dead body float, her boots getting wet. Sam grilled Frank, cursed, trashed him, picked up the phone to call the police. Bonnie stopped him, hand holding the girl’s ID.

\- Stop. Don’t. She’s a minor. This ID, it’s fake. Runaway girl, probably. He’ll go to jail. - she said.  
The whole scenario had changed in a matter of minutes.  
\- Fucking kidding me, Frank? A fucking kid?, Sam whispered, pissed.  
\- I didn’t know!! She looks like she’s fucking older than me!  
\- No cops. - Sam spoke  
\- Whose room is this, Frank? - asked Bonnie, meeting Sam’s eyes. They were thinking the same thing.  
\- Hers, I’m guessing, She had a key.

Sam had the guts to make the decision, consulted Bonnie. They decided to clean everything, the water would erase traces, it was doable. The water was still running, weak pressure, barely coming out, but still on. “Leave it”, she said. Sam ran to the gas station across the street, bought alcohol, wipes, ran back to the room. Bonnie orchestrated everything , Sam reassured her, an infallible team, synchrony. They cleaned up everything Frank touched, pulled the sheet off the bed, lay them to get wet.  
\- What are you doing? We can’t… - said Frank, suddenly realizing what was about to happen.  
\- Let’s go. Get in the car. - ordered Sam - Unless you wanna spend the rest of your life in jail. You know your family needs you to work, be there for them. Let’s go.

Laurel rested quietly against the wall, listening to every word, numb by the similarities between their lives.  
\- You covered it up. Just like us.  
\- Yea. But I’m not done.

She furrowed her eyebrows, not wanting to believe.  
\- While they...worked, I held Sam’s phone. And mine. Annalise called me, several times, I couldn’t exactly talk. She called Sam, too, and I... didn’t want him to get distracted, end up telling her, so I silenced the call. Calls. Didn’t think. Her being pregnant never crossed my mind.

Frank stood up quickly, feeling light headed. He wasn’t going to make it through this part. Laurel got up after him, following his steps to the kitchen. He poured himself a drink, chugged it, turn on the faucet, letting the cold water run, fall on the side of his face. She approached the sink, turned it off, slightly tugged his shirt so he would look at her, water dripping from his face.

\- Keep going. Please.

He couldn’t face her, the numb effect of the cold water wearing off, a tingling sensation returning to his eyes. Laurel reached his face, slid her thumb over his eye, her touch giving him permission. So Frank cried. Sobbed, hard, letting the rest of that night slip through his lips furiously, all the memories falling out of his brain with the force of a derailed train.

\- Annalise was in labor that same night, water broke, bleeding, she wanted to tell me to come, take her to the hospital. Tell Sam she was going to the hospital. Ask him to hurry to Ohio.

The calls he had silenced broke their contact. She had spent too long trying to reach him, trying to reach Sam, left them dozens of voicemails. In a lot of pain, she couldn’t drive, so she took a cab, alone. Once she was finally at the hospital, she wanted to wait for Sam, but the baby was ready. Things got complicated, the umbilical cord was wrapped around the baby’s neck. The doctors tried everything to untangle him. When Sam finally made it to the hospital, it was too late. The baby had suffocated.

\- It was all my fault, Laurel. I didn't think of the baby. It was all my fault they lost their son. Sam never forgave me. Fuck, I’ll never forgive myself. So when he found out Lila was pregnant, he said this time, he actually wanted me to kill them. Said I had done it once, could do it again. Unless I wanted Annalise to know.

Frank continued to sob, grasping Laurel’s hand. She couldn’t feel it, her mind too busy trying to comprehend the series of events. Guilt, she thought. It explained his loyalty to Annalise. The most powerful, underrated feeling, she knew too damn well. She couldn’t think of a thing to say, not a word.

Laurel’s mind drifted away. She just stared at the kitchen cabinets, they were both sitting side by side on the small space between the sink and the counter. She was able to see his face’s reflection on the oven’s steel panel, him looking disfigured. Unrecognizable. Her father had never cried in front of her, she had never asked questions, never pressured him to talk. For years her father and her mother had fought, screamed at each other, broken things, their kids running to the nannies, escaping the noise, troubled. They had had conversations just like this one, she assumed. Laurel had always went to find her parents, wanted to hear what they said, couldn’t recall how many times she had seen her mother crying and her dad holding a glass, drinking, not a bit of emotion on his face. They were so similar, Frank and him. Murderers. Cold blooded heartless killers. With the sound of Frank catching his breath amid a sob, she held the thought, turned to her right to look at him, saw his hand on hers, his head down. She had never identified that face on her dad and she couldn’t figure out why.

That’s when it hit her. Because that, on Frank’s face, was regret.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laurel snitches. Bonnie finds out what Laurel knows.  
> Inside on Bonnie and Franks friendship. 
> 
> Followed Canon, but diverging now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I published chapters 4 and 5 before the finale. So I have to follow it now, of course, and still try to follow canon. Somewhat and somehow. So I did my best here but will diverge further on the next chapters.  
> I hope you guys enjoy it. Things are a bit dark right now and might get darker. But We all know we need good flaurel to put up with 6 months hiatus.  
> Find me [here](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/bex-thinks)

When conscious thoughts started to hit her, Laurel realized he had cried himself to sleep on the kitchen floor. She wasn’t sure if she had fallen asleep. The tingling sensation on her fingers made her realize he was still holding her hand, tightly, cutting her circulation, her palm marked by his strength. She looked at him for a few seconds, minutes maybe, his breath sounding heavy, forced, just as the strong wind outside brushed on the window. 3:45 Am blue lights blinked on the microwave clock. She considered going home, but the cold air and lack of bus service stopped her from even venturing out the door. Carefully, she wiggled her fingers loosely from his grip and when he opened his eyes, his gaze desperately searched for hers, like it was the first time he’d ever opened his eyes. She whispered for him to get up. Laurel held his arm and walked him to his bed, Frank trying his hardest to look awake. Mumbled something she didn’t understand. His body collapsed on the mattress and his head poked up one last time, in search of the sound of her closing the curtains. Exhaustion kept him from staying up. She walked over to the living room, took her necklaces off and laid on the couch, resting her head on a pillow she had grabbed from the bedroom. She just laid there, thinking, eyes blinking to a stained spot on the ceiling. Wondering. When the sun rose, Laurel peaked and saw him sleeping. “I told Bonnie you were sick. Rest.,” she wrote on a post it and left, not a sound in the apartment to interrupt her.

Later that morning, when she got to work, she was bombarded with new information and her emotions were all channeled to her stomach. Annalise told them the truth about Philip, she had been attacked while looking for Wes at his apartment and Philip had proof against Caleb. _Caleb, this whole time, a serial killer_ , Laurel thought. She couldn’t believe it. Actually, she could. Lately she believed anything, although all the stories that surrounded her life seemed like they could be adapted for movie scripts. _Original screenplay. Should gives us all an Academy Award_. she joked silently to herself. She noticed Wes wasn’t there and only then realized he had tried to call her, left a voicemail. But right now she couldn’t handle anything, not before coffee, puking maybe. Everyone seemed to be connected to some device and with eyes stuck on the TV, which was perfect for someone who didn’t want to be paid any attention to. Throughout the day, a constant feeling of imprisonment made her stop herself from staring into nowhere and gasp, as if she forgot to breathe, mind immersed in the events that had brought her and Frank’s lives to where they were. Laurel just stood under the door frame, eyes on Michaela watching the news, Caleb now being the prime suspect. She couldn’t ignore the irony of how they ended up sleeping with killers, involved in a tangled web of lies.

She couldn’t look at Bonnie, nor at Annalise. _Sam. God, Sam. Holding 10 years of leverage, collecting people’s destinies. Frank’s. Bonnie’s, too, because she killed Rebecca over Lila’s death. Lila. Poor Lila_ , she thought, wanting to make sense of it all, that is how she survived events like these. Her thoughts grew darker, as a charged nimbus cloud, ready to release energy. Hatred, disgust, anger. Towards everything, everyone. She hadn’t slept, nor eaten. Laurel felt her head spin, everyone’s voices became distant, the room darkened, and suddenly, her legs gave up. Her head hitting the ground startled them all, everyone’s faces trying to understand what had happened, until Connor and Asher saw her on the ground, rushed to assist her. Bonnie walked over to see what the commotion was about.

\- _Laurel! Hey, wake up! are you okay?_ , said Connor, as he patted her face and helped Asher carry her to the couch.

She opened her eyes, groggy.

\- _Yea…I, I’m… fine._ \- She said as she tried to sit up, then took her hand to the back of her head, heavy pain bothering her. _“Holy shit, ouch!”_

\- Frank kept you busy all night, huh? - Joked Asher, while elbowing Oliver to induce some laughter. Her eyes fluttered with pain and she mumbled before passing out:

\- _Yea… saying he killed Lila.. killed Annalise’s baby. …Sam and Bonnie in Ohio…_

Everyone looked puzzled, examining each other’s faces for clues on what they had heard. Bonnie breathed in slowly, lifting her chin and quietly scanning the room, freezing as she saw Annalise by her office’s door. _No, no, no, shit_ , thought Bonnie.

 _\- Why don’t I drive Laurel to the hospital? She might have a concussion, she’s clearly not making any sense._ \- she said, quickly, needing to get out of there fast. - Connor, Asher, bring her to my car, now!

- _Dude, Annalise’s ba…_ \- said Asher, trying to make sure he had heard right.

\- _Asher! Now!_

Annalise caught Bonnie’s eyes as she walked out the door, causing Bonnie to linger for a few seconds. It was enough to know this escape was not going to work. Annalise knew Laurel might not have meant to say every word, but every word out of her mouth meant something...everything. But demanding Bonnie to stay and immediately explain was only going to make matters worse in front of everybody. _Let her go_ , she said to herself. _For now_.

Bonnie parked at Frank’s and rang the doorbell, leaving Laurel asleep in the car. She kept ringing repeatedly, until he opened the door, messy hair, boxers and t-shirt, swollen eyes. It took her a second to be able to speak, her mind immediately drifting away to 10 years ago Frank, the night it all happened.

 _\- The hell you doing here?_ \- said Frank.

\- _Go get Laurel from the car. She’s out._

Frank ran to the parking lot, barefoot, not waiting until Bonnie explained, forcing her to shout breathless as she ran after him to catch up.

- _The hell happened to her?_

_\- She fainted. Hit her head._

_\- We have to take her to the hospital, she’s not suppose to be asleep._

_\- We don’t have time._ \- Bonnie said, finally coming to a stop by the opened car door. - _She snitched, Frank._

He froze with Laurel on his arms at the sound of Bonnie’s words, his eyes closing for a minute, arms trembling with all of his strength applied to not drop her. This couldn’t be happening. He walked in and laid Laurel on the bed, closing the door behind him as he got out of his room.

_\- Snitched? What do you mean, snitched? She wouldn’t._

_\- You told her. About Ohio._

_\- I ..I…had to. Did Annali…_

_\- Yes. Laurel fell, hit her head, blabbered words. Annalise heard enough._

_\- Shit._

Frank felt his body struggle to keep up with his heartbeat, his chest tightening on him.

_\- Why did you tell her?_

_\- I just … I had to. What did she say?_

_\- She said you killed Annalise’s baby. And someone else._

Frank’s throat closed, heart felt a thousand times heavier. He looked down to face Bonnie. He knew her, knew every bit of her traces, her moves. He didn’t have a good feeling where this was going. Frank watched her retrieve a recorder from her purse. He froze once he heard Laurel’s voice…“you killed an innocent girl…”. She didn’t have to play anything else. Suddenly everything started to make sense, why Bonnie had been just a foot behind him for days, lurking. He grew angry, struggling to control himself.

- _Laurel grilled me in the courtroom bathroom. I knew you had screwed up badly. You told her about Rebecca._

_\- So you recorded us? To blackmail me?_

\- Yes. Because I knew you told her. She was angry at you, at me. I saw you two sneaking to talk all the time, and I wanted to be sure you had told her about Rebecca. But she’s been angry… because you killed Lila.

Frank looked down and swallowed, his mouth dry, air lacking.

\- Why did you kill her?

He knew the game was over. Bonnie would not back down.  

\- The hell with it…I had to do it. Had to. He..you know him…that same night in Ohio, he saw the calls on his phone, from Annalise. I refused the calls. Didn’t think of no baby. Didn’t know what the hell I was doing. He saw them, I confessed, told him I had refused them while we..cleaned. I didn’t mean to…you know me..but you know him. I wanted to tell her, quit, leave, he stopped me. Said she was already hurt the baby died. Said it was my fault …that I…the baby died.

Bonnie just blinked, her cold emotionless face suddenly realizing how Sam had ruined both their lives. How he had let her believe Rebecca had killed Lila. She knew what Sam was capable of. The pleasure he had in gathering leverage over people. He never stopped himself, never reconsidered anyone’s feelings. It was all about how powerful he felt after every life he ended. Every voice he shut and every future he cut short. But Bonnie was certain she had no time to calmly work too many details. No time to analyze or to create a strategy. This was a breaking point, a drastic move needed to be made. So this is how change appeared, quickly, painful, no mercy nor time to think, as if they had been stricken by lightning. It was now. This was it, the moment they broke the cycle.

- _You let me believe Rebecca did it._

_\- I had no choice, Christ! I know you get this! I know you’ve been there, with him! I didn’t know you would…_

_\- You need to go, Frank. Like we discussed we would, like we promised, if one of us ever needed to get out, ever had the chance. This is it. You need to go._

_\- No, no! Bonnie..look..we can.._

_\- Frank, it’s time._ \- She said calmly, rationally like only she could.

- _The hell was that ‘til the end’ bullshit then?_

_\- This IS the end._

Frank scoffed, incredulous.

- _No, I’m not going anywhere. We’ll talk to Annalise, she’ll see what.._

_\- If you refuse, I’ll show this recording to the police. I’ll exchange evidence for immunity. Don’t make me._

Tears streamed down his face at the realization that Bonnie was right. It was the end for him. How merciless this chapter of his life ended. How his hope for salvation had also become his doom.  

- _I can’t leave her_ … - he said, beat, trying to swallow his sob.

 _\- Frank, Annalise won’t forg…_ \- Bonnie stopped herself as she watched him look at his bedroom door. She then understood whom he was referring to. - _You’re the one who brought Laurel into this by telling her everything. Don’t drag her down with you._

He nodded, and let out a loud sigh.

_\- I got this, Frank. Go._


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laurel finds out Frank's gone.  
> Bonnie and Laurel recognize each other's pain.

Bonnie returned and confessed everything to Annalise, narrated Frank’s story like a teenager reading an essay in front of the whole classroom. She just stood there, her mind was on demo mode, previously programmed, as she said exactly the sentences she had planned in the car driving back. Efficiency, no hesitation, back and forth answers to Annalise’s questions, and made her final remarks. Bonnie knew how Annalise worked. She added the emotional tone as well, implied that Frank had been highly disturbed after years of being pressured by Sam. It was all true, yet the idea was to be convincing of the hardship. Bonnie swore she didn’t know about the phone calls, never thought Annalise had attempted to contact them. She needed her to believe in that part, even though it was true, to still be on her good side. Sam had gone by himself to the hospital, and Bonnie and Frank had flown back home the next morning. Lila’s death had been the fee paid by Frank of a contract that took Sam ten years to cashed in. On her side, and Frank’s side, they had the fact that Annalise could easily relate. Bonnie’s closing arguments had been remarkable. She anticipated the prosecution’s request, He needs to go, said Annalise, and just this once, Bonnie knew she had been the better lawyer.

When Laurel woke up, she couldn’t remember exactly what happened the night before, how she got to Frank’s apartment, the trauma on her head causing her temporary memory loss. She immediately took her hand to care for the throbbing pain on the back of her head. She felt like she had slept for days, her head still heavy. She woke up alone, to an empty apartment, felt dizzy as she called his name repeatedly. No answer. _Too late to be at work_ , she thought, as she made her way into the kitchen to get a glass of water. She held her breath as she spotted his ID, credit cards and phone on the coffee table, a puzzled expression on her face. Laurel’s ill presage bothered her while she waited for her phone to recharge. No messages or calls from him. The silence of his absence was louder than her attempt for positive thoughts. _Breathe. Just breathe, Laurel_ , she mentally repeated, as she gathered courage to look for signs of what she feared.  Agony bounded her while she swung every door open, looking for him, increasing her pace throughout the empty rooms, opening the bathroom door to the relief he wasn’t hurt, followed by the despair caused by the empty closet and drawers.

It took a couple of hours for it to sink in, the realization that he was gone. The pain in her chest longing for much needed explanations. Answers. Contact. _No foul play. Intentional._  This was harder, a lot harder to reason through, she felt. No goodbyes, no confrontation, no chance. How easily he had made a decision. She wept the whole night, stopping, breathing, then starting again every time her mind fooled her into thinking he’d be back, every time she thought he could hurt himself. She knew better than thinking he was coming back. Then she thought of going after one last trace of hope.  

At 5:00 in the morning, Bonnie’s phone rang. She didn’t have to look to know who it was.

_\- Laurel._

_\- He’s gone._

_\- Who’s gone?_

_\- Frank! He’s gone. Where is he?_

_Good work, Frank, Good work_ , Bonnie thought, and quickly recollected her thoughts to play her part of the plan.

_\- You’re the one in bed with him._

_\- I mean clothes-bags-shoes gone, Bonnie. No wallet, no phone, gone._

_\- Meet me outside the office in 30 minutes. We’ll handle it._

Bonnie told her she fell and that she had driven her there, left her with him, that Frank had said he would take her to the hospital himself. Well, he didn’t even bother, Laurel thought.

\- _So you don’t know anything about this?_ \- she asked Bonnie.

_\- I dropped you off. He seemed fine when I left. You don’t remember anything? What you did the rest of the night?_

_\- No, nothing. I guess I hit my head…_

_\- Yes. You fainted. Your head hit the ground pretty hard._

Laurel felt like crying, again, and it took all of her strength to hold it. Not in front of Bonnie.  

 _\- Annalise’s gonna be thrilled to be woken up with such exciting news_ \- Bonnie said as she walked to the front door. - _You coming inside?_

\- _In a minute._ \- said Laurel, standing, hands shaking. She took a deep breath as she realized she was right where he first comforted her.

She wished she had let him hug her then. _Come on, Laurel. Enough_ , she repeated to herself as she made her way up the stairs. Her eyes quickly glanced to a specific spot on the front porch, betraying her reasoning of not looking to the corner, making her heart beat faster as she saw a white piece of paper attached to the wood, right where he had her sitting, his body pressed against hers.The mental image gave her goosebumps. She picked it up and read it, “I’m sorry for everything that happened.” Her heart sank and tears formed as fast as quickly as it must have been for him to write it. _Son of a bitch. Screw it._ She looked up and let the chilly winter wind dry off her tears. The initial desperate denial gave room to an unsettling anger.

They waited for the others to get there, everybody asking Laurel how she was feeling. Fantastic, she answered, as she crumbled the little piece of paper in her pocket. Annalise and Bonnie addressed everyone. Handled every trivial question.

\- _Why am I the only one freaking out here?_ \- Asked Connor. - _I mean, what if he decides to tell everything?_

\- _I, we have more on Frank than he does on us, Mr. Walsh_. - Annalise responded calmly. - _Calm down. He’s not going to tell anyone._

\- _Frank’s not stupid. You need to relax. He just needs some time._ \- reinforced Bonnie.

\- _So what’s our plan? Wait? How are you okay with this, Laurel?_ \- asked Michaela, indignant of Laurel’s silence. 

\- _I’m not sure what you want me to do. He left. His choice._ \- she responded, staring at Bonnie who was discreetly looking down to her phone. - _I’m sure Bonnie and Annalise agree._

\- _Ms. Castillo is right. Frank’s a big boy. Plus, guys take off when things get tough, it’s what they do. Now we have other pressing issues.. -_ Annalise said.

She went on to tell them about the apparent murder of Wallace Mahoney. That’s when it finally hit Laurel that this should explain why Wes had left her several voicemails, and while the living room erupted in speculation about the case, none of them really knowing the real connection with Wes, Laurel walked away. She needed time to think, to switch off her brain.

Bonnie approached her while she poured her second cup of coffee

- _How’s the bump?_

_\- Hurts. But my head doesn’t feel that heavy anymore._

\- _Good_. - She smiled, but Laurel didn’t reciprocate. Instead, she started walking away.

- _I have to go back to.._

\- _He’ll turn up, Laurel_. - Bonnie interrupted, trying to convince herself.

Laurel stopped and turned around slowly, tilted her head as she stared at Bonnie, rigid attitude taking control.

_\- Will he? Good for you, then. I sure hope I’m not here when he does._

Frank was supposed to have told Bonnie where he was, but he hadn’t contacted her. Hadn’t gone to where she had suggested either. They had always agreed on this escape plan, their ‘fight club’ rule they never talked about, but knew it would happen someday. When it got too hard, too complicated to be fixed, but mostly, above all, when they were to be put against each other by Annalise or Sam, that’s when one of them would just vanish from the public life. Leave, change identity, erase all electronic data, restart. Bank account with savings in place, that neither touched for over 7 years, under a fake name, ready to be cashed out. They were the only two people that had any knowledge about their plan.  

Bonnie grew more worried each hour that went by without any phone calls or any movement on the bank account. The burning sensation in her chest only increased as she reminded herself why she’d told him to leave, to convince herself she had done the right thing. Fear ignited her negative thoughts, already consumed with guilt. She kept a close eye on Laurel, which never helped her feel any better, noticing how she had been acting different: overly joyful, chatty at times, then instantly quiet, distant. Laurel’s anger disappeared into a numb state of sadness and Bonnie could recognize the look of despair in someone’s eyes.  

At every moment a memory consumed her; Laurel made an effort to push it aside. Bury it. Wash it off. The angst and pain caused by the questions that she played on her mind, over and over, forced her to walk a fine line between sanity and pride. She had spent every hour since he left at his apartment. She hated the one she lived in, all arranged by her dad, full of things that didn’t represent her. She spent every night trying to hate him, thinking of every bad things he had done, disapproving of every stupid look on his face and idiotic idea out of his mouth. She didn’t want to talk about him, hear his name even.

Overwhelmed by the lack of contact, Bonnie drove to Frank’s apartment. Maybe he had come back to leave a clue, a sign. She walked in on Laurel sitting on the couch, textbook on her lap, highlighter on the right hand and whiskey glass on the left.

\- _He hasn’t left anything_. - Laurel immediately said as Bonnie walked in, startling her.  

_\- Jesus! …I guess you have a key as well?!_

_\- Is that why you’re here? To see if you can find something your bestie left you? Well, he didn’t. He left nothing. Nothing that makes sense, anyway._ \- Laurel said without lifting her gaze from the book, same indifferent tone she’d used to speak to Bonnie since Frank had left.

She opened the book to a page marked by a piece of white paper, retrieved it and threw it to Bonnie without moving from the couch. Bonnie read it and shook her head.

 _\- He did leave this, this stupid note, proving how classy he is. Nice note, right? Nice way of saying “Sorry I wasted my time with you, Laurel”.  You should be glad he didn’t leave you anything._  

Bonnie looked at Laurel, confused.

\- _What makes you think this note is bad?_ \- Bonnie said.

_\- “I’m sorry for everything that happened”? Uum, please, he took the time to tell me he regrets the day he met me ?! Making me feel like the dumbest woman on earth…from a piece of paper…because I am..God, I am so stupid._

\- _You really are._

Laurel scoffed, closed her book and sat up straight, not diverting her gaze from Bonnie’s.

_\- Thanks. I should have listened to you months ago, when you told me not to care for him. Is that what you wanted to hear?_

_\- No._

_\- Just…just go, Bonnie. He left nothing, alright?_

_\- I told Frank the same thing. To not screw you. Then I told him to not fall for you._

_\- Seems like you finally convinced him._

_\- I did convince him, but not of that._

Laurel couldn’t help but laugh, the alcohol inevitably pushing out the sarcasm. She spoke, her voice a mix of drunken courage and sadness.

_\- Spare me the act, Bonnie. Frank lied to me, constantly, so I’m pretty used to his bullshit. And yours, too.  I said I don’t need you to be nice to me all of a sudden. Caring. Overly concerned about me. I know you’re lying._

_\- Laurel…_

_\- Do you really think I didn’t notice how you kept staring at your phone since he left? Even though I told you he didn’t bring his phone. What did you convince him of?_

_\- Laurel! Just…shut up!_ \- Bonnie screamed. - _God! Just stop talking!_

Bonnie tried to swallow her annoyance, avoiding Laurel’s look. But Laurel responded immediately, not intimidated.

\- _I know you can explain. I’m sooo tired of these lies._ \- She paused as she considered to tell the whole truth, the deja-vus and snippets of this same scene with Frank passing through her head. Her voice trailed off and she took a deep breath. - _Why did he leave? Why?_

Bonnie’s guilt overcame her reasoning, at last. She could see right through Laurel’s harsh attack, how much she was suffering. She recognized herself in her, and hated herself for having developed such compassion. She finally spoke, her characteristic whisper voice, defeated.

   - _You mumbled words about what happened the day her baby died. About Ohio. Annalise heard you._

Laurel sat back on the couch, uncrossed her legs and let her head fall back, her thoughts finally clearing up.

- _So you rushed me here…_

 _\- …and I told him to leave. He had to, Laurel. Annalise wanted him gone._  

_\- So he didn’t…uh…just leave…_

_\- No, you idiot… -_ Bonnie blurted, rolling her eyes. - _He didn’t want to leave you. That’s how I know the note means he’s sorry about the events that made him leave, not about ..whatever it is you two had going on. Because he told me that. He didn’t want to go._

Laurel looked up, silently nodding, the textbook whitepages were suddenly full of water marks. She let out a loud sigh, not bothering to pretend she wasn’t an emotional wreck. Bonnie kept talking.

- _He was supposed to call me. Go to this motel and waited for me to help him find somewhere to go, help him find a more secluded place. We’ve always had this plan, if the story ever came out, if shit just got too complicated. But he never made it there…and honestly, I don’t know what to do. I had to tell Annalise. She knows you know._

Laurel’s tears just rolled down her face with no resistance.

\- _You also talked about Lila_. - continued Bonnie.

\- _So it’s all my fault._

\- _He wouldn’t want you to think that_.  - Bonnie replied.

\- _It’s my fault he’s gone._

\- _I’m worried, Laurel. Frank, when he’s dark, it’s…I’m afraid. For him. We need to find him._

Laurel suddenly understood how powerful and corrosive guilt could be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my editor for all the help and feedback. And thank you for all the comments and kudos. You guys have no idea how fulfilling it is to know you enjoy this. 
> 
> Find me [on Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/bex-thinks)


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new threat appears and Laurel and Bonnie need to move faster to find Frank.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took a while. I'll try to be faster with updates.  
> Thank you very much for your kudos and comments, here or on Flaurel Fam. I really appreciate it! Keep them coming.  
> [Find me on Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/bex-thinks)

Laurel And Bonnie deliberated, for hours, over a few drinks until dark circles of exhaustion appeared under their eyes, both taken by guilt’s merciless power. Guilt. It either paralyzed you or pushed you forward. Consumed you or fired you up. Frustration built up as they saw the sun rise with no plan, no path to follow, no guidance. Later that morning, Laurel made it to the office first, followed by Bonnie a couple of minutes after. She had done a better job than Laurel at recomposing her image; better make up, cleaner suit, straighter face. So firm and collected. _“I thought I could pull myself together”_ Laurel thought, and almost had to laugh. It had been strange, uncomfortable, to see Bonnie emotional, to recognize vulnerability when she thought none existed. “ _What hasn't been strange lately?”,_ she reflected. The more stories unfolded, the more entwined to each other all of their lives were. Unplanned and unwanted like fate’s most daring games. Those no one wanted to play.

Bonnie had barely put down her briefcase on her chair when Annalise showed up at her office door, clearly shaken, struggling not to scream and get anyone's attention. Laurel pretended not to notice, went through some papers of the new case without lifting her gaze.

 _\- Where the hell have you been?_ \- she questioned Bonnie, looking angry and worried.

 _\- I had a plumbing issue_ \- Bonnie quickly managed to say. - _had to wait for the super...why? What’s going on?_ \- She asked as she walked into Annalise’s office, door slamming behind her.

Laurel silently walked to try to listen to the conversation, feeling like her 12 year old self being nosy about her parents’ fights. It didn’t stop her.

__\- Wes is being held at the 5th precinct in New York. They think he might have something to do with Mahoney’s death._ \- said Annalise. _

 The thought of asking on what grounds he was being held came at the same time as the realization that he must know the truth. Bonnie narrowed her look towards Annalise.

__\- You told him? The truth about Mahoney and Rose?_ _

_\- I had to tell him! -_ Annalise whispered. _\- He went to Ohio and found the police report, questioned me on his mother’s death, the case, everything._

_\- So he had motive._

_\- Plenty. And although the cops won't know Mahoney is his father, they know Rose was a key witness and died while the case was ongoing. But I can’t represent him, neither can you and neither can Eve. We were all involved in Mahoney’s case 10 years ago, and they know Wes works for me…_

_\- ...so there’s conflict. He’s going to be assigned some young recent out of law school public defender._

_-_ _Shit, he’s angry, Bonnie. He’s hurt. Reckless. Don't you see it?_

_\- He won’t talk, if that’s what you’re implying._

_\- You don’t know that! I've been lying to him for a year now! He thinks Sam killed Lila, I convinced him to get rid of Sam’s body, he believes I killed Rebecca or had Frank do it, obviously he's already imagining I had someone kill Mahoney, too. And if he says any of it to the cops, how Eve and I were both in Ohio for the case, how I blame myself for his mother’s death and the whole case was built or irregularities… -_ Annalise stopped to catch her breath, resting her hands on her desk _-... One word from him and I'm going down!_

It was Bonnie's turn to hold her breath, sensing something dreadful was about to be laid out.

__\- Figure something out, Bonnie. Find a way to keep Wes quiet, find Frank and make him confess, I don't know. Your friend Frank killed Lila and started this whole damn domino effect so if I'm screwed, I'll drag all of this office down with me. And I'll have the whole FBI after Frank to make sure he becomes someone’s bitch in jail._ _

Annalise spit out her words like a rabid dog. Bonnie gathered strength to nod, feeling the floor give out under her. She stepped back to leave. On the other side of the door, Laurel moved away fast as she could once she heard Bonnie's steps approaching. Bonnie glanced at her as she walked out and saw her by frank’s desk.

-  __I'm just..I, uh, looking for a book. I thought I left it on his desk._ _

But Bonnie ignored her, moving straight to the bathroom, to recompose herself for the second time in a few hours. Falling to pieces in front of Laurel once was enough.

Laurel felt the pressure on her temples and could even hear her heart quickly pumping her blood. She looked down at Frank’s desk, his supplies and papers meticulously organized, a bit of dust accumulating over the scratches on the wood. She fluttered her eyelashes as she slid her fingers, splitting the dirt, tracing a clean line. She sat on the chair as the voices around her faded into nothing, and surrendered to her feelings. She heard his voice, in her mind, and she could swear he must have sprayed cologne all over the damn chair, because nothing else would explain how perfectly she could smell his scent. Weeks ago, before it all went bad, before she had demanded the dreaded truth, she would have gone to him after hearing anything bad from Annalise, from Bonnie. She would have been happy because he would have touched her, his hand on hers, he would have said a comforting word, or just smiled. He would have teased her. She felt her eyes quickly fill with tears and shut them to make them go away. She allowed herself to admit that she needed that comfort now, his calm **,** low voice saying anything positive. She dared to think she would even appreciate him telling her to relax, which she usually hated, or screw it, even making a sex joke.She needed him telling her he had her back, that he would take care of it, of her. “Ecco,” he said in Italian, whenever she did something right, and she cared about his approval more than she knew.

She was interrupted by the noise of the other students walking back to the living room after a coffee break. Startled, she jumped up from the chair and could see everyone’s concerned looks towards her.

 _\- Uh, there’s coffee in the kitchen, you look like you could use some...aaand there’s make up in my bag as well, you also look like you could use some….touch up._ \- said Michaela, as she signaled to Laurel to wipe away a bit of blurred mascara under her left eye.

 _-There’s also plenty of booze in Annalise’s office, if you dare to go in there_. - said Connor, pointing to the closed doors.

__\- All very tempting, I’ll stick with coffee. Thanks._ _

Later that day, she went back to Frank’s apartment, alone.

 

Hours passed as she sat on his bed, surrounded by papers of the new case, books open for theory reinforcement, laptop for research, phone next to her for hope. It beeped with Bonnie’s name on the screen. “ _Found your book?_ ” She read the text, and remembered her lame excuse of the morning. “ _No.”_ she responded shortly, wanting to get back to work. _“You heard everything.”_ Bonnie replied, causing Laurel to freeze, not sure of what to expect. She didn’t have the chance to type a reply before the phone beeped again. “ _Find him.”_ Laurel grew angry and her fingers acted almost faster than her brain “ _Is that a threat, Bonnie?”_ she wrote, hitting the send button. Her nostrils flared as she squeezed her lips together, waiting for an answer, Rebecca’s death rolling over her mind, she was ready to use it. “ _No. It’d be a favor”._

Laurel let out a sigh, resting her head on the headboard. She sat in silence for a few minutes, staring at nothing specifically. Taken over by too many feelings to enumerate, by reflex, she proceeded to do something she hadn’t done since the beginning of law school **:** she prayed. Recited the rosary, over and over, repeated the prayers, quietly sang the choruses, as school had made her memorize all of it, said her own words of faith out loud, until her throat dried and she tired herself into a trance. When she blinked herself to a conscious state again, she stared at the screensavers’ slideshow of pictures on her laptop. Baby photos, horses, the beach, her quincenera, and as if God had just been waiting for her request to send guidance, she saw her necklace. Laurel jumped up, knees on the bed as she used one hand to open the picture on the computer, other hand feeling her empty neck. _“I had it! I had it!”_ she thought. The memories flashed back to her clearly, fast, as she ran to the coffee table in the living room and stood there looking at the empty space. She searched for it under the table, lifted the couch pillows, for the sake of it, and laughed out loud as tears wet her cheeks. She called Bonnie, immediately, without even considering how late it was.

 - __Laurel._ _

__-_ _ _I know what to do. I know how to find him._

Bonnie tried to decipher if she was listening to her cry or laugh, Laurel’s excitement causing her voice to be louder than it seemed, she could even pick up a bit of the accent.

 - __He has my necklace!! He took it!_ \- Laurel said without waiting for Bonnie to fully grasp what was happening. _

_\- Necklace? What’s the plan? Send the cops after him for theft?_

_-_ _No, Bonnie, listen! The night Frank told me everything about what happened in Ohio, I took my necklaces off, two of them, and placed them on the coffee table. The next morning I didn’t think of putting them back on, but when I came back that night, the night he left, there was only one there, which I picked it up without thinking much of it. I was so groggy, I guess, I didn’t realize I was missing my favorite necklace, one that's L shaped with diamonds that my dad gave me when I turned 15...you know I always wear a lot of accessories and how in Mexico we have this big celebration when girls turn…_

_\- Laurel! Focus!_

_\- ...I was too young to care for such expensive jewelry so my dad had them put a tag. it has a tag, Bonnie. A trackable tag. I’m not sure exactly how it works but I’m sure my dad knows. Frank took it, he knew it was my favorite, and he took it!_

Bonnie could hear Laurel breathing heavily through the phone, her head quickly wrapped around everything she had just heard. She had never liked giving students too much credit, praises or even attention, but she wasn’t dealing with a student right now. She was dealing with an ally.

__\- I’ve never been so glad for Frank screwing a student. Call your dad now. I’m on my way over._ _

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laurel must come to terms with her choices.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for those who bother to leave me kudos, a comment, either here or on Tumblr. 
> 
> I really appreciate it. This is a slow one, I know. Plot mover. Hang in there, Laurel needed this. 
> 
> Find me [on Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/bex-thinks/new/text)

If she hadn’t spent her entire life training to tame her feelings, a bit more excitement would have made her call her dad in a heartbeat. It wasn’t enough, though, nothing was ever that easy if it involved the Castillo last name. Laurel held the phone, staring at her father’s name on her contacts list. _“Call. Get over it. Just call,”_ she actually repeated out loud, against words of caution echoing on her mind. Something about how easily she had spoken these three words, “get over it”, had gotten her to just pause. She looked up and caught a glimpse of herself, her reflection on the TV screen in the living room, a slight smile on her face that she watched fade, gradually, as she thought of the reasons behind everything. _“The reasons, always the freaking reasons.”_ she said to herself as she had hundreds of times before, and hated it just as much. She hadn’t done it, hadn’t gotten over it, risen above. _“Can I? Do I want to?”_ Laurel put herself on the stand, witness of her own trial, and now she had to chose which side of her was to walk free. **  
**

The corners of her mouth slowly bent down, her shoulders slowly curved and she walked to stand next to the tv, to the wall, _“this damn wall_ “, She smiled, and blushed with the memory of the day he pinned her there, teased her til she couldn’t pretend to be uninterested, couldn’t resist. She ran her fingers on it, heard his voice begging her to get to know him, and let her forehead rest, her image no longer in sight on the tv. Then, as sand in an hourglass, it all came tumbling down. _“Get over it”_ , she heard her own command, again, louder than ever, and scoffed at herself. Truly getting over it was one thing she was not good at. As much as she didn’t want to, looking at herself was inevitable.

Standing still, she turned her head, looked at the apartment door, thought of how hard she had slapped his face on that first night, how angry she had been when she had heard the truth about Rebecca from Annalise and immediately assumed he did it. Hadn’t even considered to not believe Annalise, to not blame him. She had pushed him, pressed hard, grilled him, until he had let it out, had betrayed Bonnie. He had chosen her.

On another seemingly innocent night, she had once again gone to his apartment determined to dig for more. Confused, exhausted, she had let her manipulative self seize control of the situation once again, provoked by her past memories, and they drove her mad, took over. Again, she had pressed him for the truth, cried, begged him to tell her, threatened to break up. _“I used what I knew I had,”_ she thought, thinking of the “I love you” messages on her phone after she walked out. “I used it against him.” She slid down the damn wall and continued to relive the night he had turned her down, told her to get to know him... _“Lord did I take that advice to the extreme?!”_ she thought as she folded her arms on top of her knees and let herself cry.

She kept dwelling on it, had to. Blamed her damn sixth sense that had woken up far before hearing about Rebecca. This relentless doubt that had been fed by their previous conversations beat in her brain over and over, warned her there was something more to him, and her world shook at his confession about Lila. He had done what she wanted, once more. She had gotten her biggest reveal. She had broken through him and even broken, he had chosen her.

She rested her head on her arms and flashed back to how she had felt that night. It was all over, immediately, no pros and cons romance list, nothing.  It had been the end. After days, weeks of ignoring him, she had returned a look and a text message, because she hadn’t been able to let go...let go of her need to for the truth. The end of them hadn’t been the end of her questions, her obsession with being right, for having the final word, with making the best arguments, her need to make sense of other people’s pain. The need to reason through her own pain. Even then, he had managed to say he’d missed her. She thought of how far he had let her in. How patient and loyal he had always been. How selfless. Like train cars on a track, one revelation had brought the next and she heard more about him, heard it all. On the third night that she had convinced him to talk, his memories had become words as he spoke in fast streams of emotions. She had understood him, had cried some more, til her cheeks and eyes hurt and she felt so numb she couldn’t tell if the tears had run dry. By the end of night number 3, Frank had still hoped for them. For the third time, he had chosen her.

She recognized there had been plenty of idle time to think about every thread of truth he had told, what it all meant, how it had affected them and how she felt. But she hadn’t done that, no. Now she saw it, how she had pulled her best trick, the one that had pushed every prep school boyfriend away, that had turned every best friend into someone she had scarred. She had dug stuff up to jeopardize everything good in her life as if to justify her feeling that a broken and grey girl like her didn’t deserve someone who loved her in spite of herself, her past, her family. Pain was addictive. She understood every bit of her guilt, where it came from, why it stopped her, and why it was pushing her forward.

On the next night, he was gone. He had disappeared and had given her no ‘then’, no day after. He had taken that from her, because she was as relentless as his guilt. _“Excellent job, Laurel.”_ she thought to herself. _“Use your argumentative bullshit to make people feel bad and build an immense amount of guilt until they disappear from your life and you get to sit here alone, you and your righteous self, entitled to your misery, the one you fought so hard for. Bravo.”_ She let out a sigh. She understood his guilt, God it was so much worse than hers, _“How could I add even more to it?”_ She felt her chest tighten, felt like she could scream, her lips trembling as she squeezed her own hands, her sharp nails hurting her palms.

Her next chapter, her now, was about finding him. He had finally chosen himself, and she wanted nothing more than to find him, to choose him for the first time. She needed no more reasoning, no more winning. She needed to lose.

A knock on the door brought her thoughts back to the living room. She quickly wiped her face, straightened her clothes, and opened the door for Bonnie.

_\- Did you call your dad?  
\- Not yet. _

Bonnie rolled her eyes and let out a sigh.

 _\- God I don’t have patience for this...look, I know you have your daddy issues...  
\- I don’t have daddy issues! _  - Laurel said, realizing how stupid she sounded - _It’s ...it’s much more complicated than that._  
- _I don’t even blame you but…_  
 _\- Maybe my sister can help, this way I don’t have to talk to him._

Bonnie chuckled, but didn’t engage in the argument, since Laurel was already waiting for her sister to pick up the phone.

 _\- Well I haven’t heard from you in a while. What happened?_ \- said Vanessa.  
- _God, why can’t people answer the phone by saying hello anymore?_  
 _\- Because people usually talk to their sisters more often than every 4 months. But fine. Hello, Laurel._  
 _\- Hi, Vanessa. How are you?_  
 _\- Fine. You?_  
 _\- I’m fine. How are the kids?_  
 _\- They’re good. There. Happy? Now what’s going on, Laurel?_

Laurel hesitated, 30 seconds on the phone with her sister and she was already annoyed. But did she have the right to be? She hadn’t showed up at Easter after the Christmas fiasco. Never called to hear about the kids. She quickly shook off the guilt, it’s not like she had a normal life or time for it right now.

 _\- Alright, Nessa, you’re right. We could spend another hour on the phone and I’d explain everything to you, but you’re right. Look, remember that necklace dad gave me on my quinceñera? The one that's L shaped with diamond? You probably have one too._  
_\- Yea, I do, why?_  
\- _I, uh, I’ve been travelling a lot, and I lost it. Don’t remember where I left it exactly, in which hotel that is. It has a tracking tag, right?_  
 _\- Yea. All of our jewelry does. You wanna track it? It doesn’t reach that far, Laurel._  
 _\- Right, I know, but you see, I think I know which hotel I left it in, and I think they’re lying to me about it. I..I have a friend in IT, he can, uh, maybe help me._  
 _\- Oh. Wow. That could work. If he can reach their wifi and see if it is there. You need the tag number, though, so you can go on the tracking company’s website and then see where it it. Type our password too. Just insert the tag number there and if it is under wifi, the location will show up._

Laurel fell onto the couch, free hand covering her eyes and nose and let out a loud sigh.

 _\- Hello? Lor?  
\- Yea...I...I didn’t know we, uh..._ \- her voice suddenly caught on her throat and she had to take a deep breath not to cry - _had to have the tag number…_  
\- _Okay, Jesus, I didn’t know you cared that much about a gift from dad. I have copies of all the tags’ numbers filed somewhere. Just give a couple of minutes and I’ll text it to you._

This time she held her breath.

_\- Vanessa, are you serious? You have that?_

_\- Uh, no. Oh God bless your OCD._

_\- Yes. Relax. I’ll text you soon. Do you know the password?_

_- Uh, no. Oh God bless your OCD._

- _You’re welcome. You’re lucky you didn’t have to call dad about this, he’s been so out of himself ..._

 _\- Wait...Why? What happened?  
\- You didn’t hear about his friend?  
\- Which friend? - _ Laurel asked, confused.  
_\- His funds manager. Mahoney. Dead. Apparently got shot ..._

Laurel’s skin went pale, she felt the blood rushing through her veins, her sister’s voice fading. 

 _.- ..he’s in New York, went to see if he could help...Anyway, ugh,I hear one of the kids screaming. Gotta go see where the nannies are this time that are not watching them. Pay them a fortune to spend time on their phones rather than watching my kids. Text you soon. Don’t disappear._  
_\- I won’t. Thanks, Nessa._ \-  She barely managed to say. 

Bonnie stared at her, seeing her visibly shaken. 

 _\- So? Speak!_ \- Bonnie said, impatient. 

Laurel couldn’t. Instead, she just raised her hand to Bonnie, asking for a minute, and walked to the liquor cart. _“Of fucking course!”_ she thought, every inch of her body sure about her dad’s connections to Mahoney. She knew the name had sounded familiar when she’d first heard it. The she thought of Wes. “ _Wes, God, no”_ she grew darker, realizing she had just been given a secret she’d hide for the rest of her life, if she wanted to preserve her friendship. 

 _\- Laurel!_ \- Bonnie raised her voice.

How innocent her sister was, or pretended to be. “ _...Went to see if he could help...”_ Vanessa’s words played in her mind and she laughed. _“Good God, Nessa. Dad? Help? Ha!”_ she immediately figured it out. Laurel had never understood why her father’s lifestyle had impacted her the most. But she couldn’t really know that for sure. _“You can’t measure other people’s pain,”_ her nanny had always told her. The past year around Annalise had given her the certainty and confidence she needed to turn things around, how damn helpful Middleton had been, teaching her about lying, deceiving, blackmailing, covering it up. She knew how to do all that, had watched Annalise master all of it. This time it would be different. This time it was her turn. It was her chance, finally her chance to do something positive with a secret. For Wes, for herself. 

Bonnie watched Laurel swallow the whiskey. She couldn’t tell what she had just heard that had made her look even more shady, bleak. 

Laurel looked at Bonnie, at her pleading face, staring at her, and she then realized she was Bonnie’s chance as well. She drank, way, way too early for it, but to hell with it, it did help her collect herself. For Frank. She finally spoke. 

 _\- We need to know at least the direction he went. We can’t find anything unless we know where he went. Can’t hack every wifi in the country_. - Laurel said, her thoughts about Mahoney and her dad moving fast, every brain cell connecting with the other as she made an absurd sense of everything.  
- _What? So I came here for nothing? Great. Nice plan, Laurel. By now Wes has been there for almost 24 hours. We’ll be getting a call from NYPD any minute now._ \- Bonnie said, desperation rising, her voice cracking.  
_\- No, we’re not_. - Laurel said, calmly. - _We’re gonna go talk to Oliver. Tell him about the necklace, about Annalise’s threat. Connor can hear, I can handle him. If Oliver can figure out a way to narrow down our area, pick up any trace from bus stations, trains, any wifi, I don’t know._  
_\- Are you out of your mind?  Walsh is going to..  
\- No more lies, Bonnie. Conor will flip out IF we don’t tell them the truth. But we will.  
\- Why would I do what you’re telling me to do? How is this a good plan?_  
_\- Because I’m all you’ve got, Bonnie!_ \- She snapped, staring at Bonnie’s eyes. She brought both hands to her head, fingertips massaging her scalp as she tried hard to control the rush of thoughts and emotions _\- I’ve got something, okay, yes, just now, and it has to work, because you know what? I’m not doing what you and Frank did. I will NOT spend the next ten years of my life living like you and Frank have been. And Frank, God, Frank doesn’t have anyone else but us! And I know you’ve had enough of Annalise so if you want a chance, a fucking slight chance of breaking away, then you have to side with me here. I can’t live like this. I want out of this, I want Frank... I need Frank out of this._  
\- _Alright…_ \- Bonnie whispered.  
\- _And I can’t even believe I’m saying this, but you...I get it. What you’ve been through, whatever it is. So I’m gonna go to New York after we talk to Oliver. I’ll be back as soon as possible and you’re going to stall Annalise, tell her I’m looking for Frank, found a clue, whatever._  
_\- New York? To do what? See Wes?_  
_\- I’m going to see my father._


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver helps Laurel and Bonnie find Frank's location.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am extremely thankful for all the comments and kudos. Thank you, thank you, thank you! Hope you enjoy this chapter.  
> Click here to find me [on tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/bex-thinks)

Connor opened the door for Laurel, and at the sight of Bonnie next to her, his mind wandered to many different situations he wouldn’t approve of. He tilted his head and stared at them.

 _\- What is SHE doing here?_ \- he said,  eyes narrowing at Laurel, wanting to pick up any hint of a lie.

 __\- Can we come in? I need help._ _ \- Laurel said, ignoring him.

Connor didn't move. Before he could answer, they all heard Oliver’s voice coming from inside, asking who was by the door, and realized he was approaching them.

 __\- Oh hey, look who it is, my favorite K5 membeeer… -_ _ the excitement in his voice increased once he saw Bonnie . __\- Uh-oh...this is going to be good! Come in ladies! Sorry about mr. grouch here not inviting you in immediately._ _

Laurel walked in first, shoulder brushing against Connor’s, forcing him to step back. Bonnie followed her.

 __\- What can we do for you? -_ _ said Oliver, rubbing his palms together. He shrugged and smiled.

Laurel knew she had to address Connor’s concerns before he got the chance to complain.

_\- Before I even say what we need, I want you to believe me that I’m aiming for this to be different. Or at least to bring some change, for the future._

Connor sneered at her, looking down and shaking his head.

_\- Oh Laurel, there was a time when I would have ACTUALLY believed you._

She shook her head, this was going to be harder than it seemed. Bonnie gave her an “I told you so” glance, but Laurel had no choice but to keep going.

 _\- Just let me finish before you veto this, alright, Connor?!_  - She took a deep breath. - _We need help finding Frank. He’s not in a very good place right now. He might need help, and that’s why I’m here. He, uh, has something that belongs to me, a necklace, and I need you, Oliver, to maybe track it for me?_

 __\- He stole something from you?_ _ \- Connor asked, indignant. - __Classy._ _

She hadn’t considered it, that he could have taken her necklace to sell, pawn it, and the thought of it completely threw her off. She was forced to stop talking, caught in the middle of her logic, a twist in the series of events that she hadn’t imagined. Bonnie intervened, continued to explain, noticing how rattled Laurel was.

__\- He might have stolen it, but I don’t believe so. It would’ve been smart, sure, but he wouldn't do that. He’s not smart about... her. He just took it, to keep._ _

__-_ _ _Oh my gosh, of course. I’d love to do whatever I can if it means to, you know, help you two be... flaurel again._ \- said Oliver shyly, walking over to Laurel, touching her arm.     - _T_ _ _ell_ me what to do. _

Laurel smiled, shyly, wondered how Oliver could be so positive all the time, but now she needed to be.

-  _The necklace has a tag that’s trackable. I thought you could try to hack into the company’s website, see where the tag has been under wifi….maybe train stations? Bus stations?_ \- she said, pulling herself together.

Oliver raised his eyebrows to Laurel, smile spread across his face.

 _\- That's actually...wow...very possible...yea, I think I can do it._ \- he said, sitting down quickly and opening his laptop.

\- _Here._ \- she handed him her phone. - _That's the password and the tag number._

Connor’s hand pressed down on the laptop’s screen to close it, almost catching oliver’s fingers. He kept holding it shut.

__\- Let me just understand what’s going on here. -_ he said, making Laurel sigh. _

 And there it was, the interruption she was waiting for, the brooding face he always showed. _“Demasiado bueno para ser cierto”_   she thought. Connor was always suspicious, full of assumptions of the worst. He had reached his limit sometime the past year, she wasn’t sure when, but then again so had she. She was aware he wasn’t so easy to convince anymore, it would take a great deal to get him to cooperate. She’d have to be very appealing.

__\- What’s the deal? The two of you are, what, teaming up to find Frank? That’s lovely, really, but why? That’s what I ask myself.  I mean, the dude suddenly left, without any explanation, which makes no sense because he’s been so loyal to Annalise all this time. Obviously more loyal to Annalise than to you, Laurel. So spill it, tell me what’s making a princess like you go for a ...pauper like Frank?_ _

Bonnie stared at Connor, finding it amazing how easily he attacked people, fought everything with sarcastic accusations, turned people’s weaknesses against them. “ _Please,”_ she thought. This might work with Laurel, but it wasn’t even close to working with her. So she slowly said in a low tone of voice, knowing one sentence was all she needed to get him to stop.

-  __Do you really want her to spill everything right now, right here Walsh?_ _

Laurel knew she had to think fast. Bonnie and Connor were about to engage in a dangerous exchange of insults and that never ended well. She looked back at Oliver, who was smiling awkwardly at the rest of them, and suddenly realized who she had to convince. She turned her look to Bonnie, hoping she would pick up on the strategy she was about to use.

__\- I should have listened to you, Bonnie. I should have. I should have had a plan, a lie to convince Connor to actually help me._ _

She purposely bit her lip, brought her hands to cover her mouth and nose. Bonnie caught on.

__\- And I should have known these two were going to be of no help. Let’s go._ _

Bonnie started walking to the door while Laurel brought out her best skills. She discretely pinched the edge of her nose, causing her eyes to water. She started talking, managing to sound distressed, to which Bonnie pretended to attend, approaching her for “comfort.”

__\- You’re right, Connor. You’re right, okay? Yes, Frank left me. But I’m trying to get over it because we...we’re afraid that he’ll do something stupid, like…_ \- she let out an even more dramatic cry - _like hurt himself, and I can’t bear that. Bonnie is here because she knows Frank and came to warn me that he’s capable of that. You know we broke up, but he...he said he loved me, and I didn’t say it back. So I need to try, I need to say it back. I need him._ _

Connor could have laughed at the whole act, he really could have, but he knew he had to accept it or Bonnie would could spill the whole truth. They were probably afraid the ‘something stupid’ Frank was going to do was to turn himself in, bring them all down. Oliver was surely touched. Indeed moved by the scene, he walked to Laurel, to offer her a hug. With her head over Oliver’s shoulder, she stared at Connor, her eyes warning him to let go, to trust her, to work with her. “ _Everything will be over_ ” she mouthed. Connor looked, slightly shaking his head, and as his hands reached for his waist, he gave in.

__\- Fine. Let’s find him._ _

Oliver smiled at the sound of Connor’s voice, released Laurel from the hug and walked back to kiss his cheek. He sat down and opened his laptop once again, moved on to isolate the necklace’s tag ID number on the company’s website and searched the surrounding wifi. Nothing came up. He then hacked into the tag manufacturer’s system and increased the wifi range for the specific company, unblocked any privacy protection. Laurel and Bonnie just stood there, feeling incredibly powerless, not even following his thoughts and steps as he walked them through it. He then tried the insurance website used by the company, in case of stolen jewelry; still nothing. _“Police property recovery system, I’ll try that, they use it once they recoverer merchandise that has been lost, pawned, sold, etcetera”_ , he said, as he clicked enter and mocked the PPD’s technological security with some IT metaphor no one understood. Search came up empty, causing Laurel to let out a loud sigh of relief. It would hurt too much to pick up a signal of her necklace anywhere if not with him.

 _\- Well, at least he was smart enough to not get rid of your jewelry around here._ \- Connor teased.

Laurel rolled her eyes. Oliver went on to try the Greyhound terminal for any signal corresponding to the necklace.

 _\- Luckily all of these stations have open wifi for customers, makes our lives so much easier in cases like these._ \- he said, trying to sound cool, as if he had always done this type of work.

No trace of the necklace appeared under that network.

 _\- Try 30th street station_ . - Bonnie said. - _Frank hates buses, thinks they’re too dirty, too slow and people are prone to making conversations. He also wanted to get out of here fast._

While Oliver listened to the instructions, Laurel attempted to smile. Her heartbeat was going faster by the minute and she tried to discreetly take deep breaths. She opened and closed her hands, trying to pump her own blood and keep her hands from shaking at the same time. Oliver linked the station’s network signal from the day Frank had left to the manufacturer’s range for the specific tag and clicked enter. A matrix of numbers appeared on the screen as the computer scanned through hundreds of thousands of IP addresses, serial numbers, until a red blinking light flashed on the combination of letters and numbers that matched the tag.

 _\- Bingo._ \- he said, smiling at Laurel.

 _\- Where to?_ \- asked Bonnie.

 _\- Acela trains terminal. Hold on. This should be easy._  - Oliver grinned, and quickly figured out the trajectory of the train at that specific terminal. - _Train goes to Portland, Maine._

 _\- You can leave fishtown but fishtown never leaves you._ \- Bonnie scoffed, incredulous.

Laurel held her breath, her thoughts connecting so fast she couldn’t talk. She raised her right hand to prevent everyone else from talking and finally spoke, a mix of anger and laughter could be sensed on her voice.

__\- You’re damn right it doesn’t. Maine. Fucking Maine. Why didn’t I think of this?_ _

_\- Thought of what?_ \- asked Bonnie.

__\- We were in bed one day, I was bitching about how cold it was outside, and he said something like “ Let’s go to a deserted beach, you spend your days relaxing, I can fish for a living.” Of course I just laughed at him, didn’t pay much attention to it...God, I can’t believe it!_ _

She didn’t even notice the tear rolling down her left cheek, this time there was no game being played. It was a genuine tear. She squeezed Oliver’s cheek with her palms and gave his lips a peck.

 _\- You’re an angel!_ \-  she said. - _And I’m going to pay you back for this, I promise._

Oliver blushed and smiled.

 _\- Let’s go_ , said Bonnie, as she walked towards the door. - _Oliver, keep trying to track around the train stations in Portland, see if he left the state again, although I doubt it. She’s right, he loves the beach and Maine is empty enough._

_\- Sure! Will do! I’ll try resorts, hotels, restaurants...anything with any wifi range should pick up traces of the necklace, then we can have a better location within a few hours._

_\- Go as close to the coast as possible. Try fishing gear stores. We have to go, we can’t waste time._ \- Laurel said, grabbing her bag and following Bonnie.

Oliver pulled his chair closer to the table, losing himself in numbers. Connor walked after Laurel, pulling the strap of her bag on the hallway, causing her to face him.

__\- You better tell me what the fuck is going on, Laurel!_ _

__-_ _ _Let go! Let go of my bag!_

 _\- Or_ _what? Just tell me what is happening!!_ \- he whispered as he looked back, afraid Oliver would hear them.

Laurel tried to pull her bag, but Connor’s grip was tight.

 __\- Do you want to know what’s happening? I’m getting us out of situations like this, alright? I’m getting us out._ _ \- Laurel answered, her voice muffled by the sound of her breath. - __We both want the same things, Connor. We all do. I know what you’re afraid of, I know what you have to lose, who...shit...I just lost what I had to lose...I won’t involve you anymore, or him._ _

__-_ _ _And if it doesn’t work? What’s going to happen to us, huh? Annalise will..kill us, Laurel._

 _-_ _No! She will kill me, Connor. Me! And if it works, you’ll walk away. So let me try. Please. Let me go._

 Their eyes locked for a few seconds and they just stood there, anger dissipating, sensing each other’s fears as they figured out how much further they could push each other. Slowly, Connor loosened his fingers, releasing her and watched her walk away.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laurel's conversation with her father and her plan are finally revealed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I'm sorry it took so long to update, but this plot takes a lot of work and it has been hard to think of so many details. Plus, real life got in the way.  
> I hope you enjoy it and please, leave me kudos and comments to inspire me to keep going! It means a lot!  
> Thanks for reading!  
> Find me and this story [on tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/bex-thinks)

Laurel made it to New York that same night. Still sitting at Penn Station, she made the phone call she dreaded the most.

 _-Aló!_  
_-Dad, hi. It’s Laurel._  
_-Yo sé, mija. How are you?_  
_-Fine. I’m in New York. Nessa told me you were here._  
_-She did, huh? Indeed, I am. What brings you here?_  
_-Work. Think we can meet for lunch?_  
_-Maybe. I’m running on a tight schedule here, Mija._  
_-By lunch I mean I need to talk to you. Urgently._ \- She could hear her father’s breathing pace change, could hear him clearing his throat.  
_-Of course. Where are you?_  
_-Penn Station._  
_\- I’ll send a car to pick you up. Back entrance._

Laurel stood there in the middle of the Amtrak trains waiting area, looking at everyone and at no one specifically. Feet stuck to the ground, she felt a cold chill run all over her body. People mumbled “excuse-mes” and “thank yous” as they passed by, barely missing her, bags and briefcases brushing against her clothes. She felt her heart flutter, followed by a hollow feeling in her stomach. All of these feelings were too familiar, they had kept her from moving several times before. “ _Basta!”_ she thought, trying not to panic. “ _Enough!”_ Since Frank’s disappearance, she realized she had to remind herself to breathe far too many times. She knew she hadn’t thought about every possible outcome of her plan, but only one result was interesting enough to be considered and it would have to work. She knew how omnipotent her last name was and that’s why she was so afraid to move forward with her plan, but it was her time to act like a member of the family after all. “ _Second guessing every step of this plan...how about you take actual steps?_ ” she actually told herself. Her hands started sweating and the dizziness threw her off balance. Breathe in, breathe out. Laurel stood there, frozen, attempting to swallow her tears.

Her phone vibrated, distracting her for a second as she stirred her hand in her bag to dig it out. It was a text from Bonnie that read _“_ Necklace signal last picked up in Sorrento, Maine _.”_ Laurel couldn’t control a nervous laugh. “Fishtown and Italy, amore mio”, she smiled, biting her lip. While she was still smiling at her phone, to her surprise, it vibrated again with a text from Connor, “Good luck...I guess.” She widened her smiled, satisfaction stamped on her face, and walked towards the 8th Ave exit.

The lincoln pulled over next to her, all black with dark tinted windows. “Castillo?”, she heard the driver say as one window came down. Laurel got in the back seat, noticing the partition between the front and the back was closed. They drove downtown. New York was incredible, she thought, promising herself to consider living there. No, not live. At least to try to take day trips more often then. Philadelphia wasn’t that far after all, but she believed all the historical sites, brick buildings on quiet roads and the suburban neighborhoods from Pennsylvania were the reasons why she preferred it there. “And him,” she thought. He belonged there, and so did she.  

She was now ready to admit that he had made a difference in her life. She had never wanted to be one of those girls who stayed at a place just because of a guy, no, that wasn’t her. Or that hadn’t been her. Now? Maybe. Probably. _“Isn’t it all just the way people look at things?”_ she thought. _“Isn’t it idyllic when a guy stays at a place for his girl but stupid when is the other way around? Isn’t it incredibly romantic when a guy drops everything to save his relationship, but remarkably idiotic when a girl even considers doing the same?”_ she scoffed and laid her head back on the car seat, staring at the mirrors on the facade of every building, her thoughts drifting back to him. She would definitely make fun of him for ending up in a town named after an italian city. “ _So predictable, Frank, it’s like you wanted me to find you.”_ she rehearsed telling him. There was no point in denying how he had been influencing her life since she started working for Annalise. How she had always defended him, and she knew he defended her as well. How she had fought against falling in love with him, which probably made every kiss so much more passionate. How she unconsciously went to get a word of endorsement from him every single time she had an idea about a case. How he gave her courage by comforting her and supporting her, even when she said she didn’t want him to. Yes, he had lied to her... to protect her. He had also lied _for_ her and given her all of his truth.

She fixed herself on the seat right when the car stopped in front of a building on West Street.

- _The Ritz-Carlton..._ \- she mocked, looking out the window to try to see the top. - _...better than a Trump hotel, I guess.”_  
_\- “10th floor”_ \- said the driver, handing her a key through the now opened partition - _“Close the door, please.”_

She looked at the card, room 1013 and walked in. Laurel swiped the card on the elevator and touched the number 10 on the panel. A blue light lit up on the little square and she once again felt stuck to the ground as the elevator rose. This time, she hoped it was only gravity pressuring her body down. As soon as the doors opened, she stepped out and followed the signs for the grand executive suite. She had the card, but would never open without knocking. After a deep breath and three knocks, she faced him.

  _\- Dad. You look well._

 _\- So do you, darling. Long time no see. Come in._  
 

She took a step towards her father and smiled, as he softened his look and leaned in, kissing her cheek. She had to play this well.

- _How are you, Mija?_  
_\- Fine. I, uh, I’m sorry about Easter. My boss took this big case and we had to prepare for the trial. No spring break either. You might have heard of the case, Hapstall siblings, accused of killing their parents._  
_\- I did. Didn’t foresee the way it ended, though. Did the brother really do it?_  
_\- He did. I didn’t foresee it either. She did, though. Mrs. Keating. Annalise, that is._  
_\- Seems like she’s good at what she does, then. Sure she must have had your help, though...since you have been working so much. I take things are well, then? School? Life?_  
_\- Yup, yea. Things are...coming along well._  
_\- Well, I’m glad to hear that. Coffee?_

 Laurel nodded. She watched the machine brew a fresh chocolate nutmeg cup of coffee, and didn’t miss her dad discreetly adding a shot of tequila and a hint of cinnamon. He then started brewing her the same. She walked over to the cart and opened the whiskey bottle, could feel her father’s eyes watching her.

 _\- Whiskey? Where did you pick up on that habit?_  
_\- Philly...people. How’s mom?_  
_\- She’s fine. I’m sure she would like to see you...or hear from you, at least._  
_\- Yea, I...soon._

Her dad frowned, took a long sip of his coffee, his eyes kept following her every move. She knew then he wasn't going to buy her good rapport for that much longer.

 _\- Dad, I need to tell you why I’m here_.

She gripped the handle of her mug tightly. It was her turn to gulp her coffee, the warmth of it almost burning her throat, running down her chest, the whiskey slowly soothing her nerves.

 _\- Does it have to do with the necklace? -_ he asked, intrigued.  
\- It does, actually...in some ways.  
\- Just tell me, Laurel, ándale.  
\- Dad, I’m in trouble. I need help...it’s her. My boss.  
\- ¿Qué? ¿Qué pasa?

 _Laurel took her voice up a_ notch, made sure she spoke faster, too. She ran her hands through her hair to look more preoccupied, and took a very deep breath. 

_\- My boss, Annalise. She’s been threatening me. Threatening people I love. She knows too much about our family, about you._  
_\- What does she know?_  
_\- You know I wouldn’t come to you for help but I’m desperate._  


She could see him averting her eyes, looking down, like he always did when she had a fair point, but didn’t enjoy it.

__\- She involved me in something really bad, and now she is holding that against me. Against my friends. I can handle it, I’ve handled it so far, but now… now she is after my boyfriend, after you._ _

_- Keep going._  
_\- She knows things about you, dad...and about Mahoney._  
_\- Knows what about Mahoney? That he’s passed?_ \- Her dad asked in response.

 The muscles on his mouth and eyes looked relaxed, not even a frown mark between the eyebrows. He sat back on the chair, slowly crossed his legs. Laurel read every lack of signal and knew it was time to appeal. In a split second, she laid her mug on the counter, picked up her bag, sniffling, pretended to wipe tears off of her face.

 -  _ _Dios Mio, What am I doing? I shouldn’t have come, I wasn’t thinking... I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, papá! I’ll go.__

 She hurried towards the door, but stopped once she heard her father’s low voice call her name. Laurel discreetly smiled with relief and turned back.

 - C _ _alm down, Mija. Tell me everything.__

 She dumped her bag on the floor and walked back, standing within inches of him. Laurel held her dad’s empty hand.

 _\- My friend is in jail, dad. He’s being questioned for Mahoney’s murder._  
_\- Who? -_ he asked.  
_\- His name is Wes. And I need to get him out._

Laurel knew the idea was not to ask her dad for the truth, it was to pound the truth on him relentlessly, but carefully.

 _\- The police need to get their hands on who is guilty for killing Mahoney._  
_\- What are you insinuating Laurel?_  
_\- Not what you think I’m insinuating, dad._

He pulled his hand free from hers. Laurel watched her father stand up and step back, turn around to not face her. Thought she heard him curse something in Spanish. He put his hands in his pockets and stood, staring at the floor.

 _\- So the kid is your friend? The one they have at the precinct?_  
_\- Yes_. - she responded, softly, giving herself time to think. _“Of course he knows someone is in jail for it already.”_  
_\- Laurel…_  
_\- Dad, listen. That’s not why I’m here. You don’t have to worry about me...I’m...I’m your daughter. My boss, on the other hand…._  
_\- So you’re not here to say you’re going to attempt to sell me out to the cops to save your friend? Assuming I’m guilty of anything? Isn’t that what your boss is telling you to do? Is that what she’s blackmailing you with?_  
_\- Yes. It is. It’s part of it. She sent me here to question you, to get the truth out from you._

Laurel looked down, putting her own hands in her pockets, mirroring his position, creating identity.  

_\- I can’t do what she’s asking me. Dad, look at me! I think that you and I both know that finding someone who COULD be guilty for Mahoney’s murder will be far more interesting than finding out who did it. We will both benefit more from it._

She saw his expression soften, eyelids drooping a bit. It gave her the strength to continue on her role.

\- I see… - he said, watching his daughter grin.  
\- She worked in a case against Mahoney a long time ago, dad. My friend’s mother was a key witness on the trial of Mahoney’s son.  
\- Rose. - said her father.

Laurel lost her train of thought. He knew her. Her father knew about Rose. His connection to Mahoney was deeper than she had imagined. This, she realized, actually helped her case. She needed to focus again, needed to keep the pace of her words flowing to be able to convince him. She couldn’t lose his attention now. She swallowed ...nothing, air, this dry feeling in her throat and kept talking.

 _\- Annalise was his defense attorney. The night Mahoney died, Wes was here, looking for him, to know more about the case and about his mother because Annalise refuses to tell him. Refuses to tell us. It’s irrelevant now. So when we heard Mahoney died, she started to feel threatened. She thinks there’s a chance she’ll go down for his murder if the cops keep pressing Wes and he talks. She thinks Wes can even talk about other case, give the cops what they want to hear to issue a warrant. So she said she could easily blame Wes, blame you, because of...you know...your connection with him, how much of your money he lost…about how you would do anything to protect your assets, to protect our family..._  
_\- Nonsense! You can’t possibly think she’s right, Mija._  
_\- Of course not, Dad!_ \- Laurel said, hoping her high pitched voice didn’t sound as forced to him as it did to her. _\- But it doesn’t matter what I think. What matters is what she is capable of making a jury believe. Find a new suspect, that’s what she’s doing. She taught us that! She said people would much rather have you go down for this than her, since you’re more ...powerful. Your connection is stronger, current...and face it, dad, our family has more to lose. She sent me here, to try to get the truth, a confession, evidence, anything._  
_\- There’s no proof against me, Laurel._  
_\- She said she had friends in NY, lawyers, her boyfriend is actually from the Philly police, so she said the easiest thing was to fabricate evidence. We’ve spent this past year being trained to do just about everything she said she would do to you. I know her. I know she would. She said she would throw me in jail, too. So I left as soon as I could, yelled at her, I said that you were actually here in NY to check on his family, obviously...that you might not be one hundred percent good but that you were not a murderer…_  
 

He raised his hand in a signal for her to stop talking. Laurel froze, felt a cold drop of sweat down her spine.

 - W _ _hat does the necklace have to do with anything, Mija?__

Laurel laughed nervously, making her hand tremble, looking from the corner of her eyes to guarantee he saw her.

 _\- Frank. My boyfriend. He’s been protecting me from her. This is going to sound really crazy, I know, but you have to believe me...you have to! - she said while getting closer to him, placing both hands on his shoulders - he did bad things too, but because she told him to! Annalise told him her plan to ruin our family and he...he said he wouldn’t be a part of it, denied her for the first time, said he wouldn’t do it. So she threatened to put him in jail, have him killed off like some worthless piece of shit if he didn’t do as told. So he ran away, but he took my necklace with him, and now...I just need to find him, before she does._  
_\- So you’re tracking him, using the necklace._  
_\- Yes...the tags you had them add, to track us, picked up a signal._

He smiled a light smile, not willing to give too much away.  She did the same. _“At least this part is true,_ ” thought Laurel. She did need to find Frank before Annalise discovered a way to do so. Her father walked towards the bedroom’s large window. The view was spectacular, she had also noticed. Battery park rested largely just across the street, packed with people taking advantage of the warm spring weather to board the ferry to watch the beautiful landscaping of downtown Manhattan, before they made it to the Statue of Liberty.

- _So you want me to threaten her back._ \- said her father.

She nodded. Nothing more needed to be said. Laurel stood right next to him, both staring at the green monument. She had played all possible cards on her closing arguments, now all she could do was wait.

 _\- Well, she sure has been teaching you well. I guess we need a plan, then_ . - said her dad, smiling. - _I’m very, very pleased you are taking care of our family like me._

 _“Fuck you,”_ Laurel felt like saying. _“I’m not like you.”_ She grinned, kept staring out the window.

 _\- I already have a plan. -_ she said. - _We just need to execute it._


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laurel starts putting her plan into action.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for taking so long to update this. Real life has been really busy. My plans are to keep writing, though.  
> Hope you're all still enjoying it.  
> Find me and this story [on tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/bex-thinks)

The first order of business was right there in New York City. John Brown walked in the precinct, flashed his ID at the front desk officer without stopping, not a single welcoming look in return from those around the room. He kept walking through the hallway amid pleas from the few unlucky men behind bars.

__\- Not today, boys... not today._ _

 The interrogation room’s door barged open, causing the main detective to roll his eyes and exclaim through a sigh.

  __\- Oh for Christ’s sake!_ _

 Brown proceeded to speak after setting his briefcase on the table next to Wes.

  __\- From now one my client will not say another word and in observance of his state, please be advised that none of what he said can actually be considered. But you know that. In fact, let’s wrap it up, gentlemen, shall we?_ _

 Wes looked at him, confused.

  __\- Who the hell sent you, Brown?_ \-  asked the youngest officer, crossing his arms and leaning back on the chair. _

_\- He leaves with me now, unless you gentleman can prove actual grounds for this interrogation?_ _  
_

  _\- Brown. Good to see you again...I guess. Your client refused a lawyer, so nothing illegal here. -_ said the detective, a clear disdain in his words. - Plus, _your ...uh...client’s mother used to work for the victim and was a witness in a case 10 years..._

_\- Used to._ \- Brown interrupted. - _Exactly. And she’s deceased. Ruled a suicide. The case is closed, has been closed for years. So, as I thought, no reasonable ground for interrogation. Let alone a future arrest._

_\- There is a clear connection here…_ \- the officer continued, trying to save his case.

_\- Used to be. Again. There used to be a connection. -_ Brown interrupted once more, his voice presenting the lack of patience in dealing with the situation _\-  To be clear, detective, the situation is that it looks like my client is just a kid wanting to know about his mother. A kid searching for clues about his mother’s life. A kid who has stayed here for over 24 hours talking to you under extremely stressful circumstances, saying involuntary things because obviously he can’t make better choices. A kid who was recently at a psych ward for wanting to kill himself. Gentlemen, come on. This kid is a mess and it won't be difficult to motion to dismiss this conversation of yours. This is a kid who happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. You’ve kept him for way longer than necessary, let’s face it. Not illegal but it won’t look good in court either, if you decide to pursue this and waste your time. These type A law students, they think they can see what you have by refusing to call a lawyer and thinking they actually talk to you. Think they know what investigation is and try to do their own. But he is clearly incapable of better judgement and he’s not in his right state of mind, so unless you formally charge him with murder for somehow shooting the victim even though he was standing right next to him, I believe we are done here._

Brown grinned widely at the end of his speech, watched the officers exchange concerned looks. But both remained silent, that being the cue he needed.

  __\- Excellent! Have a nice day gentlemen. Come on, Kid.  Let’s get outta here._ _

 Wes pushed the chair back with his legs and moved towards the door. As they made their way out through the hallway, he watched how Brown held his hand up, parallel to the bars as if to shield himself from the shouting and took decisive steps towards the exit.

  __\- I...uh...I’m scrambling my thoughts here trying to figure out who had the money to hire the best lawyer in NYC for me...even though I didn’t need one. -_ Wes said, trying to catch up to the lawyer after stopping to retrieve his bag. _

 Brown kept walking quietly and once they stepped outside, Wes’s question was answered as he spotted Laurel smiling, one leg up as she leaned against the wall.

_\- That was fast._ \- she said as she walked closer to them.

_\- I told you it would be. And you, kid, you could have walked out at any time, they didn’t arrest you, you know that. What the hell do you think you’re gonna get by spending the night there? You_ _think you can talk to these guys?_ \- Brown said, directing his words to Wes. - _You better not have said anything stupid._

__\- I didn’t. I...I was just trying to see what they had, waiting to see if they knew more about my mother’s case..._ \- said Wes. - _But you know that._ _

_\- Yeah, I do. Well, stay away. Try not to spend voluntary time in jail anymore._

Wes nodded, coming to his senses and realizing how unreasonable he had been. Brown's words in the interrogation room didn’t seem too far off the mark.

__\- Thank you uncle...I mean, thank you, John. I really appreciate it._ \- Laurel said. _

_\- You’re way too grown up to call me uncle John. What you can do is call me when you change your mind about living here and working with me. I knew you’d be a great lawyer...can’t even think how many times teenage you relentlessly bothered me to sue Girl Scouts for exploiting children._ _  
_

_\- Ha! Actually, I was 10. But I’ll let you know._ _  
_

_\- I gotta get going. You have my number, if they bother again, don’t hesitate. Tell your dad I’m in Florida next week. It was a pleasure to see you again, Laurel._ _  
_

_-_ _You too. Thanks again!_ _  
_

He kissed her cheek and walked away as Wes yelled an embarrassed “ _Thank you,”_ still trying to understand what had just happened. Brown just raised his right hand, without looking back, and yelled back “ _Thank_ _her_.”

__\- Hi. -_ she said, smiling. _

_\- THE John Brown? Really?_ _  
_

_\- He’s my dad’s friend. Took one phone call.  Plus, I would need someone that good to come and convince you to leave._ _  
_

Wes scoffed, couldn't believe her.

__\- You’re not going to yell at me for not walking out?_ _

_\- Like you’d listen?_ _  
_

With a guilty smile on his face, he thanked her.

_\- You’re more than welcome._ \- she said as she hooked her arm on his. _\- Let’s go home._

Home would have to wait, since there were no trains available in the middle of the night. Wes protested at the idea of Laurel getting him his own hotel room, until she threatened to send him back to the precinct. She had told him how amazing the beds were in this hotel chain, enough to guarantee him a good night of sleep after all he’d been through. Laurel tapped the card to open her door, immediately heading to the bathroom, interested in seeing the size of the bathtub. Tonight, she didn’t care about taking advantage of her father’s credit card, didn’t mind the perks that came with it, not after putting herself on his radar again. She was now just as far in as she would ever be out. Her father was manageable; Annalise was uncontrollable.

As she slowly immersed herself in hot water, she felt that every muscle on her body reflected the tension of the conversation with her dad, the stress of the past few days. She stretched her arm to reach her phone, held it parallel to the tub to avoid getting it wet. On her recent calls, she pressed on Bonnie’s name, and left her a voicemail, “It’s Laurel, hi. I’m surprised you didn’t pick up but I guess you...do sleep. I got John Brown to get Wes out. We’re spending the night at a hotel and we’ll try to be back early tomorrow. Annalise should be calmer now. Everything went as planned with my father. Hope you get this. Bye.”

The bed looked immaculate, the silky smooth satin white sheets and the puffy comforter forced her to crawl in as if she were on a state of hypnosis, her wet hair damping the pillowcase. With plenty of space on both sides, she tossed and turned, trying to find the best position, a nest that could hold her warm and comfortable through the whole night: Laurel hugged the biggest pillow, tucked part of the bed spread between her legs, pulled the covers up to her neck, then down to her breasts. She breathed heavily and shook her head, frustration taking control. Her phone screen blinked and she grabbed it as fast as she could, without thinking, only hoping, longing for contact. A notification from an app, that was all.

Laurel tapped the messages app, looked for his name, not long ago always on top of the list of texts. Now, he was under so many spots, after Bonnie, Connor, Vanessa, Wes, even after a freaking spam text. Under. Past. She touched his name on the screen, scrolled up a few weeks back. She knew exactly what she was looking for. There it was. “I love you. I love you. I love you.” Her lip trembled. Deep breath.

She let her arm fall heavily on the mattress, phone slipping from her hand. He wasn’t there. He wasn’t in bed with her and this wasn’t his bed, it didn’t smell like him either. The bed she had grown so used to that even sleeping on it alone felt better than the extra large hotel mattress. Once the thoughts took over, silently, she felt the tears roll down and pressed the pillow against her chest. “I love you, too,” she thought.

 

They caught a train back to Philly in the morning. As they sat side by side, she kept waiting for the appropriate moment to tell Wes everything that had happened since he had left. Kept searching for the right words to say, hoping her fear would evaporate. None of the sentences she played in her head seemed good enough. Amid an exchange of caring smiles, it was more relevant, for now at least, to explain that she had overheard Bonnie and Annalise talking about him being held in the precinct and then had called her father for a favor.

__\- You’re a good friend, Laurel. I know I haven’t been easy to be around but you...you’ve been there for me. Thank you._ _

_\- You’re welcome. I’m glad I get to bring you home._

_\- Frank is a lucky guy...was a lucky guy...hey, what did happen between you two?_ _  
_

_\- I..he...I’ll tell you another day._ _  
_

_\- Really? Just tell me._

_\- I don’t feel like talking about it. In fact, you, sir, you have a lot to tell me._

_\- Fine. I’ll ask him when we get there. Or I’ll ask the others._ \- Wes said, teasing her.

Laurel playfully nudged him while expecting the conversation to die, distracted Wes by asking for exactly what the cops had said. Instead of giving him the truth about Frank, she let him talk, lent him her shoulder, paid fully attention to every complicated twist of his life. Not a word about hers, not yet. It wasn’t the right moment, the best place, not an inviting situation either.

When the train’s brakes screeched on the tracks near 30th Street, Laurel opened her eyes, held tightly to her seat, startled. Quick glances to acknowledge everything around her. Twenty, maybe thirty minutes had passed, Wes had fallen asleep as well. The only thought that she could make out of the tangled mess in her mind was that she would need to think of a way to keep Frank’s truth only his. And hers.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laurel leaves to find Frank.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please forgive me for the LONG delay on updating this. I am so so sorry. I will do my best to not let it happen again, but if it does, don't worry: I am writing and thinking about it. I do plan on finishing this. :)  
> I hope you're still enjoying it.  
> Thank you for reading! 
> 
> Find this story also [on tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/bex-thinks)

The news about Wes being out of jail reached Annalise’s office the next morning. That, together with a new case in Washington D.C. - “a win-win, typical work and great attention from politicians, Annalise, no reason not to take it,” Bonnie insisted - purposely bought Laurel some time to orchestrate the next part of her plan.

Laurel’s father was only waiting for her final word to act, blindly trusting his daughter, ready to fully protect himself, protect her. Each string had to be played, each instrument used for the whole idea to work in unison.

It wasn’t time to deal with Annalise, not just yet. Bonnie could stall; Connor could, too. He, who had doubted Laurel’s promise, now fully trusted her to pull it off. He couldn’t help doing so, relying on her, Laurel knew it, as every inch of him ached to be able to leave, to start over at least. It was touching, to see him so eager for one more chance at a different life. It fired her up.

It was an adaptation of her dreams, what Laurel expected to harvest from all this. It happens all the time - stories take detours, lives don’t lie themselves out exactly as they had been imagined. That’s when the journeys begin to count, once people realize they’re not going to end up like they wanted to. It’s sad, meaningful nonetheless.

Part of her wanted to believe that had been the challenge of the weeks, to make her  father agree to her terms, to have the guts to play such a realistic role in a hotel room that made him actually fear Annalise’s suppose threats. High risks, higher rewards. Hard, not impossible. To play double agent was for few, to bluff was an expert move. A good, well-told lie is nothing more than a version of the truth. She had done it all her life.

Laurel tried not to let her anxiety cloud her judgement, struggled to tame her excitement as well. It didn’t matter that it hadn’t been that long without seeing Frank, it felt like too much time. She knew this would be the most difficult part of her plan: to bring him back, to persuade him to stand by her.

Every piece of clothing she packed carried a deep breath, an agonizing hope. Not in a position to waste time, she moved quickly, throwing pants, t-shirts, sweaters into a carry on, and what the hell, a dress even. Fast paced, opening drawers, in and out of her closet, quickly filling a backpack with toiletries, her mind not nearly registering what she was choosing, until the doorbell startled her.

Bonnie didn’t have to say much as she walked in. Her eyes flickered, circled the apartment, checked every corner. Her lips involuntarily split as she nodded, slowly. “Wow”, it was all she managed to say. Laurel stared at her, dreading the next half hour of explanations  about how fancy everything was, so tired of it but so used to it.

\- I got your message. - said Bonnie, going straight to the point.

\- That’s it? You’re not going to tease me about the apartment?

Bonnie wasn’t one for jokes. She looked concerned, serious, yes, like she always did, but Laurel sensed something worrisome then, decided to answer properly.

\- It went well, as far as I’m concerned. I think I can read my father better than he can read me.

\- How come?

\- Well, for one thing, I had a goal. Easier to focus. I knew what I wanted out of that meeting.

\- Resentment also pushes one forward - Bonnie murmured, voice low.

Laurel could feel the sting that hearing that caused her, but she could also see something else, could see it there, once again, present, real: empathy.

\- Seems like you can read me well, too. - She confessed, half smiling. - Drink?

\- Please.

She poured herself and Bonnie a shot of bourbon, noticed Bonnie still standing.

\- You can sit, you know. - said Laurel as she handed her the glass.

\- Thank you - Bonnie replied, letting the scent of the drink numb her senses. - Good taste.

\- Yeah. - Laurel paused at a memory, then smiled shyly. - Frank likes it, too.

\- I bet he does.

\- My flight is in a couple of hours.

\- I know. That’s why I’m here. I wanted to…here…take this. It’s his, too. This way, if you need it, you don’t have to use you father’s money, raise any suspicions.

Bonnie handed her a large yellow envelope, the hundred dollar bills carefully tied together in sets of thousands.

\- I’ll give it to him.

\- Don’t. - Bonnie interfered. - Laurel, there’s something you need to understand.  

Laurel took a long breath, lifting her chin, cautious to not jump to any conclusion. Her eyes gave Bonnie the green light.

\- I want you to know… what you might find. How you might find him. It could be hard, Laurel.

\- You’re going to have to be more specific.

\- Frank is not used to dealing with things when they go wrong. He fixes things before they derail, not after. When things get bad, he…uh, he has no self-control. He falls hard. He’s merciless on himself.

Laurel scoffed, smiled at the thought. She kept waiting for the joke, the pun, the moment Bonnie would break character, shifting her weight to the left leg, then back to the right. Finally she spoke in clear disbelief, raising her hands to her waist.

\- What are you talking about? Frank’s the most put together person I know. I don’t expect to find him in a three-piece suit in the middle of freaking Maine but…falls hard? The guy takes more care of himself than anyone I know.

Bonnie stood, hesitated, waited for her realization to sink in. Laurel walked around her living-room, talking over her shoulder, trying to make sense of what she heard, reminding herself of how well-groomed he was, how confident, annoyingly self-assured he was….

\- Laurel…

\- What?

\- Pack him something warm. Bring medicine, too. Antibiotics, first aid kit.  - Bonnie said, face as straight as ever.

Sipping her drink once, then once more, Laurel finally stopped fussing. Her puzzled look made Bonnie keep explaining.

\- I’m going to Maine, not the Amazon. I can get that stuff there.

\- Pack it. It’s a small town, right? You’re going to have to keep driving and waste time. Don’t give him the money if you find him like I suspect you will. Frank wasn’t always who he is now. You need to understand that. If he’s miserable…when he’s miserable.. he doesn’t know what he’s doing.

Laurel swallowed hard, attention fixed on every inch of Bonnie’s body language.

\- You’re going to need to be very patient. And whatever you do, don’t leave him alone for a long time.

It all seemed surreal, but she knew it wasn’t. Something about the respect and sobriety that Bonnie managed to inflict on every sentence that night didn’t give her an option of doubting her. The bond she and Frank shared was tighter than Laurel had imagined, like a fight club as Bonnie herself had told her, a strong link that people develop when they need to survive. Laurel felt her temples pulse with a tension headache, and suddenly her anxiety level begged for another drink.

\- I can drive you to his apartment, help you throw a few things in a backpack. Then I’ll take you to the airport.

\- Yeah…okay…Did, uh, did you tell Annalise about me going to Florida for a family reunion?

\- That’s where she thinks you’ll be. But you don’t have that much time. I only bought you a few days. She’ll be busy in D.C.

\- 20 minutes ago I would have said “That’s fine.” Now I’m not so sure.

Their route was short. With Bonnie’s help Laurel got through picking a few items at his apartment. Frank had taken most of his stuff, but Laurel got a warm jacket, a couple of toiletries from the bathroom. They filled a backpack for Frank, grabbed his wallet, phone, medicine. Laurel couldn’t stop the negativity from slowing her down, distracting her. The irony in it was that she couldn’t even picture him falling apart, except for the guilt-filled confession nights. As much as he had been sad, broken, he hadn’t been destroyed, hadn’t been the Frank of the picture Bonnie painted. Laurel had done it a few times; she had cried, sobbed, freaked out and he had been there, a wall she leaned on, steady, unbreakable. A bleak wave of feelings snuck up on her, woke her from her thoughts.

\- How was he, Bonnie? When you dropped me off, after I hit my head…how was he?

\- Seemed okay, looked tired. Then freaked out when I told him you passed out. Why?

\- How was he when you told him to leave?

Bonnie took a deep breath, thought for a second about that morning she had told Frank about Laurel snitching, threatened him so he would leave.

\- Unhappy. Frustrated. You were on the bed and he…he got mad, looked at the bedroom door, said he couldn’t leave you.

\- Why did you not tell me this before?

Bonnie just stared, knowing she lacked a satisfactory answer.

\- He told me everything the night before, Bonnie. About Ohio, Annalise. He was…devastated. I…I slept on the couch, well I lay there, got up in the morning and went to work. When I woke up here, after you dropped me off, he was gone. I never saw him before he left. Never really got to see how he was.

\- So hurry.

Every minute on the way to the airport felt like an hour, the silence weighed so heavy, so thick that none of them felt like they had enough in them to break it. As they pulled over to the airline’s terminal, Bonnie led their goodbye.

\- What town did Oliver last see the signal in again?

\- Sorrento, Maine. I’m flying to Portland, map says it’s a three hour drive then.

\- So you’re renting a car?

\- Yes.

\- Keep the keys with you. Or hide them

Laurel leaned forward, let her elbows touch her knees. As her head rested on her hands,  her fingers massaged her temples. She felt the blood rush to head, hot, fast. It was hard not to be afraid of all the recommendations. They fed Laurel with dread, exhaustion, anxiety as a deceiving meal, hard to chew but irrevocable. Bonnie let out a loud sigh.

\- Laurel…

At the sound of her name, she put her head up, gripped the strap of the backpack.

\- Who am I going to find, Bonnie?

Averting her eyes, looking straight out the car’s front window, Bonnie responded what she had been meaning to say:

\- You are going to find Frank. You’re going to help him find himself, too. At this point, after all of this, after he left and didn’t follow our plan, it has to be you. I’m sorry, but it has to be, because he will follow you. You underestimate the power you have over people, how your convictions and your serenity are important to balance it all - she paused, breathing heavy. - I…if… If we’re going to ever break out of this…this sick world we created for ourselves, it’s going to be because of your plan. So go. Find him. And come back, because as much as I hate to say it, I need that bastard… And we need you.

Laurel nodded, pulled her backpack and stepped out. As she retrieved her suitcase from the back seat, she grinned at Bonnie.

\- I’ll call you.

She volunteered for the window seat by the emergency exit.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laurel is closer than ever to finding Frank.

Maine was colder than she thought, at least during the nighttime, the cool air forcing her to put on a leather jacket over her thin layered shirt. It didn’t help how uneasy she felt; shivering was just involuntary, whichever reason justified it. Trying to move quickly, she threw the bags in the trunk of the SUV, jumped on the driver’s seat, no idea why she had been given such a big car. 

The drive was lonely, long, too, but beautiful. It was hard not to look away from the road, admire the lakes that revealed themselves out of nowhere, stare at the vast open fields, so big she couldn’t even spot what was beyond them. The tall trees, so symmetrically planted alongside the highway, created this sort of wall, making her feel slightly claustrophobic, despite the fact that she was in a wide open space. She squinted every couple of minutes, regaining focus, looking straight ahead.

Once she saw the rest stop just outside Augusta, around 115 miles left to go, she didn’t hesitate. The night was falling in, her mind ached for caffeine and her legs needed a good stretch. The bathroom was decent, clean, empty enough for her to call Bonnie and let her know she had made it well, was on her way to Sorrento. They talked for a few minutes as Laurel watched a woman give herself the closest thing to a bath right from one of the three lined-up sinks.

- Where are you headed? - said the woman, looking back at Laurel from the mirror without turning her body.

It took her a second to realize she was talking to her. She shoved her phone back in her bag. 

- Sorrento.

\- Sorrento? Hmm. Who do you know there?

\- Pardon me?

\- If you’re going to Sorrento you have to know someone that lives there. That’s how small it is.

\- I do. An old friend. - Laurel responded, half smiling and hurrying to walk away before the woman could ask any more questions.

It was wearying to avoid the thoughts that came to her from the lady’s room interaction.  _ “Did he know anybody there? Who? What if HE had gone to find someone?” _ Her mood swifted. She hadn’t thought about any of that, but it was too late now. As she walked past a magazine stand, she reached for a pamphlet from the town. The information she read only made her angrier, the dread building up her frustration. Two thirds of the area of Sorrento was water, not even land. Population: less than 300 people. “ _ Shit,”  _ she must have said out loud. “Better go before it’s submersed,” she heard, turning around to see the same lady from the bathroom speaking behind her. Laurel scoffed, pushed the swinging exit door, didn’t bother to hold for anyone coming after her. 

All of Bonnie’s words clouded her mind once again, taking advantage of her already angsty feelings, as if they had a will of their own and chose a bad moment to visit. She stepped on the pedal, speed increasing proportionally to her anger. Music didn’t work, no song able to overcome the power of negative feelings that filled her mile by mile. “ _ Drive,”  _ she repeatedly told herself for the next 2 hours, like a mantra. Nothing felt peaceful anymore.  

It was already dark when she made it. The traffic through Augusta had held her back about a half hour. The wind blew through the slightly opened window of the car, cold air  and whistling sound keeping her awake. The smell of the ocean quickly reached her nose, an all too familiar scent, guiding her to park on the shoulder to watch the tides.  _ “Just a few minutes,” _ she thought to herself. She stepped out of the car, walked around and leaned back on the passenger’s door. She felt her muscles relax, closed her eyes softly, listening to the soothing noise of water back and forth over the sand, her thoughts drifting back to her childhood in Florida. She missed the beach; this was her habitat, where she was natural, stronger. Tomorrow, maybe tomorrow she could come back. 

She shifted her boots on the dirt road, pushed the palms of her hands on her lower back, forcing herself to arch. A bright green light could be seen from the where she stood, letters, a bar, maybe. _ “Seems like a good starting point,” _ she figured. Worst case scenario this would end in a glass of wine and directions to a hotel or an inn at least. 

Laurel pulled over in the furthest spot from the door, the short walk buying her time to take a few deep breaths. However, she still saw herself hesitating once her right hand touched the metal handle. All she had to do was turn the knob and push. 

The moment she opened the heavy wooden door, intense accusing eyes stared at her.

 

***

 

 

A quick glance at the nearly empty pool tables and bar stools let her sigh loudly, heavily, enough to be heard if the music hadn’t been so loud. Part of her, the bigger part, was relieved she wouldn’t have to see him in public for the first time, but she couldn’t help feeling his absence bring down her confidence, her drive. Hopefully It’d be soon, though. Sooner than she was ready for. 

People kept staring as she walked to the counter, moved a stool with her foot and sat, slightly waving at the bar woman. She could practically hear the criticism in the looks of every single person at that bar, could pick out the confused and curious thoughts from their minds. She directed her look to the approaching woman, perhaps late thirties, early forties, faded blond hair and a tan darker than it should be for late spring in Maine.

- Hi there. New in town? - the woman asked her, leaning over.

\- You could say that. Temporarily, though.

\- I’m Lorraine. What can I get ya?

\- Can I get a wine menu, please?

The woman let out a loud mocking laugh, taking way too long to speak again, attracting even more attention to where they were. Laurel blushed, stared down at the counter, wishing she could erase her last sentence.

- Sweetheart, wake up. This isn’t the usual trendy, upscale...lounge or whatever crap you probably like. What can I get ya?

Laurel enlaced her fingers, mentally counting to 3, deciding that if she intended to ask this woman for help, she needed to get a hold of herself. She was definitely at a disadvantage.

- I’ll take anything red, dry. I trust your taste.

The woman nodded, giving her a quirky smile Laurel couldn’t figure out. Lorraine started walking back without taking her eyes from her. Laurel searched for her phone; better to deal with things and people she could actually rely on.  _ “Made it to Sorrento. Nothing yet _ .” she texted Bonnie, putting her phone down in front of her. She then logged in to the security company’s website, decided to try and pick up her necklace signal herself. It should be close enough for her not to need Oliver’s skills. She inserted the tag number, clicked ‘find’ and watched it load, the bad connection slowing down the process. She looked up to get her glass of wine, threw the phone back in her bag.

- So, any chance I can find a place to stay around here? - She asked with a friendly tone.

\- You came all the way here without a place to stay?

\- I... clearly make very poor decisions. -  Laurel responded, faking a smile.

Lorraine rolled her eyes, didn't bother to hide her disapproval. 

\- There’s an Inn on the next town over. About 30 minutes down the main road. You can’t miss it. If you get there soon they might still be awake to let you in.

\- Great. Thank you.

The left side of the bar called for drinks as Laurel just watched for a few minutes, savoring her wine. She could see them speaking, turning heads, throwing diminishing looks, clearly bothered by her presence. Lorraine spoke to one of the guys, who immediately passed along whatever she had said to the next one, and so forth. She watched him nod and smirk. Laurel raised her glass at him, them, “a toast to hospitality, folks”, she thought, and “more wine, please,” she actually said as she drank the last bit. Lorraine approached her again, placed her hands on her waist and stared. 

\- You should really get going if you wanna spend the night at that inn, you know?

\- I will. After this next glass. Please. - Laurel said, but the woman didn’t move. 

\- Shouldn’t drink if you’re driving, which I know you are. 

\- I’ll be alright. -  Laurel insisted, impressed by the attitude. 

\- Where did you come from, anyway?

Laurel sighed. 

\- Philly.  Which is far. And I’m exhausted. So how about less ‘should’ and ‘shouldn’ts’, huh? I just want another glass. Then I’ll go, I’ll get out of your way. - Laurel responded, unable to hide how annoyed she’d gotten. 

The blonde woman cleared her throat, then breathed in, her eyes hardened. Laurel frowned, noticing something clearly off about the bar tender, but played it down, pretending she hadn’t realized anything. She watched discreetly, saw Lorraine quickly buttoning the top buttons of her shirt, rubbing her neck. She stumbled back, quickly pouring Laurel her wine, almost spilling as she handed it to her.

\- You got a name? 

\- Laurel. 

- It’s 14 dollars...Lau-rel.  - She repeated, even louder than her other words, almost as if to make sure she had heard it right. - You can leave it there on the counter.

Laurel drank it all in a few sips, placed a $20 on the counter and started heading out, looking down at her own feet and the trace of dirt they left on the floor. Clearly she wasn’t going to get anything else from this place. “Thanks for the help!” she shouted, and when she was almost by the door, the music was suddenly cut off and she froze at what she heard back: “Anytime, princess.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your kudos! Each one practically writes a new chapter. :)


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laurel finally finds Frank and learns what he has been up to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys,   
> This is it, it's finally here, the chapter where they meet. I hope I don't disappoint.

Her phone buzzed in her bag, a continuous vibration she knew it wasn’t a text or a call. The connection had resumed with her proximity to the door. The alert blinked on her screen, “tag location: within 10 feet.” Her heart beat faster, she parted her lip slightly, breathing through her mouth, faster and deeper. Inhale, exhale. Slowly, she turned back, watched as the woman played with her shirt’s collar while she talked to a man. Laurel scoffed, swallowed hard in anger. As if preparing for a battle, she grit her teeth, lifted her chin,  held her phone on her left hand and took long, decisive strides back to the counter. She found the entrance around it and barged in, much to the protest of Lorraine.

\- Excuse me!!! You can’t come in here!!

\- Give it back! - Laurel said, trying to control her tone.

\- Give what back? I don’t know what you’re talking about.

\- You know exactly what I’m talking about, Lorraine! Give it back, now.

\- Get out of my bar!!

\- That L necklace you’re wearing is not yours, and you know who it belongs to.

\- What L necklace? I don’t have…

\- Oh, you do have it. Otherwise why would you have buttoned your shirt right when I said I was from Philly, huh? It’s 80 degrees in here, no reason for you to be wearing a collared shirt in the first place, unless you’re trying to hide something.

\- It’s work...I...get out!

\- It’s a bar….and why would you be in such a hurry for me to leave, huh? Or why would you call me princess...was it because someone told you to call me that? You picked up real quick, didn’t you? And you picked up my necklace, too. Give it back, now.

\- I don’t have anything, you need to leave...or...or I’m calling the cops!

Laurel showed the screen of her phone so the woman could see it, the blinking alert still there.

\- You see this, Lorraine? This is a security company alert because the princess here has proof that the necklace you have on really does belong to me. This alert matches the tag place on the same necklace you have and if you don’t hand it over now, sure, call the cops and I’ll gladly report you for theft.

This time Lorraine didn’t respond, stepping back, threatened, afraid.

\- So I’m going to ask you one more time...  _ give.. .it... back. _

With two fingers, Lorraine slowly opened her top two buttons, and with her other hand she unlocked it, the diamond L pendant sliding over to one end of the chain. Laurel held her hand straight out, tightening her grip as soon as the last bit of the chain touched her palm.

\- Where is he? - She asked, the threat still there on her tone of voice.

\- About ten minutes from here, in a shed by the beach. Make the next two lefts and follow the signs for the pier. - Lorraine mumbled, looking over at everyone.

Laurel glanced around as well, everyone’s eyes staring, both women in the middle like fighters in a rink, their interaction probably the most interesting thing that had happened in that town in years. On her way out, she heard it, loud and clear, the confirmation she had dreaded hearing: “Hey princess! FYI, I didn’t take it. He gave it to me. And don’t bother knocking, he’s waiting for me!”

This time, she didn’t stop, didn’t turn around. She kept walking, increasing her pace, her hands shaking. The lump in her throat wa suffocating and as soon as she walked out, door closing behind her, she let out a sob. Another. Then another, until the tears ran free. 

She sat in the car and cried for a few minutes, trying to release all of her frustration. “Fucking asshole!” she said between her teeth, eventually turning the car on. “Two lefts”, she remembered Lorraine’s directions, if they were even true, but she suspected they were. The need to see him was there, stronger than ever, boosted by anger, so she sped, went through a red light, led completely by the desire to scream at him, curse him, push him, make him see how pissed she was. She ran sentences, accusations and arguments through her head, ready to try him as soon as she looked into his eyes.

The distance was shorter than 10 minutes,  hell, 8 minutes til she found the stupid shed, not a damn light on the road. She braked, tires spitting the dirt. Panting heavily, she could see her breath in the cold weather. She kept staring at the shed, how small it was, the rotten wood noticeable even in the dark. The rest of her tears drying on her cheeks. Gradually, her chest slowed down, and she started shivering again, anger dissipating and giving room to the dread that had never totally left her. She felt her chest burn.

She couldn’t think anymore; suddenly her mind was numb and all she could do was walk, walk towards him, no more waiting, no more wondering. With every step the gravel on the road announced her presence. She felt a surge of the anger when finding the door unlocked, Lorraine’s voice replaying on her head. She pushed it, ever so slightly, peeking, squinting, her eyes getting accustomed to the darkness. 

The putrid smell reached her nose and she struggled not to puke, tasted the wine going right back up. At every move over the wooden floor she felt worried, frightened, terrified for not spotting him, barely seeing a thing. “Frank?” she managed to say, high pitched voice revealing her fear. Then she noticed, in the back, a dim light coming from another room. Unsure how her legs were steady, she gathered the courage, and, after a few deep breaths, moved towards it, ran her fingers to part the beads that fell from where a door was supposed to be. 

The beaded curtain slid back in place, brushing her side, with a few strings caught on her shoulder as she stood in the middle. Time stood still with her, all gravity lifted from her body as every part just weakened. Her eyes narrowed on his face, anxious to meet his look. She moved her mouth with the intention to say his name once again, to call him, force him to look at her, but no sound was there other than her own swift heartbeat. 

He slept, soundly, his breathing as heavy as hers was minutes before, and she took advantage of it, buying herself a few more minutes to breathe. The beard was longer, she noticed then, it looked wet and uneven, with bits of dried… “food?” she guessed, sprinkled around. His hair had never looked this...greasy, hardened even, dirty, so different than she had ever seen. Laurel frowned, putting everything together. She wouldn’t have recognized him if she weren’t so close to the bed, she thought. Laurel stepped even closer, started to examine his body as her eyes followed his figure. A visible sunburn looked even worse on his neck and chest. His lips were cracked, white dried skin peeling off of it. Down his right arm an infected yellow pus cracked the skin inside of what she thought looked like a cigarette burn, the ashes stain and the callused skin on his hand proving her right. His chest had multiple scratches, ‘nails’, she figured, angry thoughts drifting back to Lorraine. She moved her eyes to the left, a dried bloody bandage on his forearm was enough to fill her eyes with tears. She swallowed hard, tried to ease the pain on her chest with deep breaths before she directed her sight to his legs. Bruises adorned his calves like leaked blood ornaments, a large scab on his right knee caused her to wince. 

The faint light came from a lamp on a night stand where a few pills laid around, also revealing an almost empty whiskey bottle, half hidden under the pillow; next to it, a large yellow stain spilled on the sheets, his hand close enough to reach it. Her brain making fast sense of everything. Laurel glanced at the empty beer bottles on the floor surrounding the single bed, the tip of the joint under his hand that fell from the side of the bed. She managed to cover her nose, suddenly aware of the smell of mixed sweat and alcohol, waking from the daze provoked by the image. Finally, her hoarse voice managed a sound... “Fraank?” she said, still to the same deafening silence. ‘Just...do it,’ she told herself as she placed her hand in front of his nose, letting out a loud sigh of relief. 

Suddenly she stepped back as he coughed. Laurel froze and stood against a wall, right in front of the bed. Again, another cough startled her as she tried to think of what to say not to scare him. She was sure he was going to wake up now, to look at her, catch her right in there, staring at him. Another cough, louder. She noticed, then, a different sound, a gurgle, full… whitish fluid out of his mouth and he still hadn’t opened his eyes, hadn’t regained consciousness. “Shit!” Laurel dropped her bag on the ground and rushed to his side. Struggling, she pulled his torso slightly up, rolled him towards the right, lifting his head and turning it sideways, as he coughed and threw up by her knees. With her left hand, she grabbed the pillow and after a few tries yanked the pillowcase off, wiping his mouth and beard. She sucked her breath through her mouth, the sickening smell of vomit driving her to almost do the same. She leaned to rub his chest as he continued to throw up, drips splashing on her jeans, until there was nothing left but bile liquid. 

Laurel stood up, bent her knees for better support and rolled him all the way until he was laying on his stomach. She put a pillow under his head and gently placed her hand in front of his nose. Cleared airways, at least. She switched the light all the way on and immediately wished she hadn’t. 

It all hit her at once, the state of the room, how he looked, what had just happened...she knew, if she had gotten there a few minutes after…only a few minutes…again she tasted the wine, an unbearable nausea and ran towards the door, kicking whatever was on the way, barely getting outside before she dropped on her knees and puked. 

A few deep breaths out in the cold air helped her get back on her feet.  Rushing, she went to her car, rinsed her mouth with water from a bottle, spitting back on the ground. She took a bag from the trunk and ran back to the shed, to check on him. Still breathing. One more look around, to fully access the situation, now that she was her calmer, more objective self. Never, not even after Bonnie’s warning, had she imagined what her eyes could see. Not for a minute had she ever envisioned him doing this to himself, sinking this low, caring this little. ‘God, Bonnie…,’ she knew she should probably call her, Bonnie deserved to know, but...no. Tomorrow. Now, it was Laurel there, seeing it, smelling it, tasting it, dealing with it and at that moment she couldn’t call Bonnie, didn’t find words to tell her everything, to handle a conversation. Bonnie had sent her to fix it, to fix him, because she knew Laurel could. 

Fix it. Take charge of it. Now it was time to minimize more possible damage, she thought, turning a light on in the room next to where he laid, glancing at him every few seconds. Ripping a thin scarf in two with the help of a knife, she wrapped it around her hands to protect herself and started cleaning. First, get rid of the ‘evidence’, she decided, as she emptied all bottles into the sink, piled them all in the backyard. Next, she opened every drawer, every container, every god damn box, bag or jar she saw until she found the bag of weed, round white pills, then threw them all at once in the toilet along with the ones from the bedroom, watching as they flushed away. Back where he was, she used one of his old t-shirts, threw bleach she had picked up from the bathroom on the floor, not giving a damn about the wood, and wiped all the vomit, tied it shut into a plastic bag with the dirty pillow case. He turned then, while she trashed old food, threw away cigarettes, his arm twitching as the infected spot touched the pillow. 

Second, ‘dump’ the body. Without hesitating, and taking the chance he was still out, Laurel retrieved the first aid kit out of her bag, soaked some cotton in antiseptic solution and cleaned the wound, adding a bit of antibiotic cream and covering with gauze. ‘Keep hurting yourself like this and I am going to have to dump you,’ she said, hoping he could hear it. 

Right there, sitting in bed next to him, wiping his arms, the ashes off his hand, Laurel felt it, the burn on her chest. Soon he would wake up, would see her there, would have to address her. She knew not to hope, wasn’t one to create fantasies. She knew she'd have to be ready. This part of her plan she hadn’t cross-examined, hadn’t run through with anyone, she kept thinking as she switched the bandage on his left arm. This would be about them, between them, no one else, and she had to be prepared for it, had to be patient, resilient, she remembered Bonnie’s advice as she clung to his hand.

At sunrise, feeling the exhaustion, her body’s energy faded after hours of cleaning, wiping, sweeping, washing. Laurel locked the bathroom door to shower, while he still slept. The cold water made her take way less time then she desired, so she stepped out, hair drenching the floor she had bleached.

_ **** _

_ Frank tried to open his eyes, felt his head weigh a thousand pounds, the taste of puke and booze still in his mouth. The room spun as he tried to stand, his throat desperately dry. After a few minutes, he managed to keep his eyes open, bracing through the sensation of the lights burning them. Drunk, sick, but thirsty, he stood, too fast, tumbling to the next room, making his way to the sink near the door, aching for water, so much he swore to be hallucinating, could swear he heard running water before even turning the faucet. _

_ Elbows leaning on the edge of the sink, he stuck his head under the cold tap water, let it run through his hair, down his ear, then turned his mouth to it. After a minute he shut it off, but the running water noise was still there, driving him to irrationally swing his fist at the faucet, hard, stupidly. He missed it, losing balance, the sudden movement causing his legs to give out. He slid down, barely awake, and stayed on the floor, head resting on the pipe.  _

_ Suddenly the sound of running water stopped. Then he heard the door unlock, or thought he heard, couldn’t tell, his eyelids heavy, forcing him to avoid the incoming sunlight. _

 

Laurel held the towel to the side, drying her hair as she walked out of the bathroom and saw him sitting against the sink, struggling to stay awake. He looked pale, the color had faded right off of him. Her heart dropped to her stomach. Even after all she prepared to say, after all the anticipation during the whole trip, even after the past night by his side, she was speechless. Breathless. Motionless.

 

_ Frank tried to open his eyes, looking to identify the noise, struggling to think straight, to tame his mind, wanted to at least sit up. _

 

She watched as he struggled to pick his head up, realizing she wouldn’t have to say anything at all, he wouldn’t even remember. She watched as he tried to hold his eyes open. For a few minutes she stood there, shaking her head, watching him, until she caught a glimpse of a white plastic chair on the corner, knowing just what to do then. She carried the chair to the bathroom, put it right under the shower head. Then she grabbed two plastic bags and without saying a word, wrapped one around the gauze on his hand, the second bag around the wound on his arm. Bending her knees, she threw his left arm around her shoulders, pulled him up as hard as she could, her legs barely handling the weight of his body. She held him tightly on the waist and guided him to the bathroom, letting him fall on the chair. 

She rested his head back against the wall and finally let the water run on his chest, soak his shorts, run down his legs. He mumbled something, moved, but she quickly stepped closer, letting herself get wet again. ‘Shhh it’ll be quick,’  she said, settling him down. With the soap on one hand,  she rubbed it gently over each scratch of his chest, circular movements on his stomach, up one shoulder, then the other, her fingers lightly pressing his skin. Then, she cupped her hands, dripping water on his hair, scrubbing it with the tips of her fingers, the fruity smell of her shampoo beating the alcohol odor. Moving on to the beard, she brushed it with her nails, getting rid of every bit of food. Next, Laurel squatted, soaping his legs, letting the rest of the sand fall and form a streak on the concrete floor.

She walked to the bedroom, grabbed scissors from the first aid kit and walked back, holding them close to his beard. One trim of stray hair and she paused. No, she shouldn’t, but the hesitation only lasted a minute, and she continued, the bits of hair sliding down from his neck into the drain. 

_ He thought he had heard her. It couldn’t be, no. So he blinked, feeling the gentle, soft touch on his face. He could see it, he was sure. Sure that that was her dark damp hair falling on her shoulders. Her eyes. Her surreal blue eyes. He shut his eyes closed, squinted, afraid this dream would, too, end. ‘Hey’, he heard, her voice. Saw her eyes again. They were real. It was real. It was her. She.  _


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, they finally meet...for real, this time. And as per request, jealous Laurel.   
> Thanks to my dear friend and editor for seeing what I don't and to Jules, who makes me want to write even more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for waiting so patiently for these chapters, guys. I didn't have internet for a few days. :(   
> Don't forget those kudos and reviews we writers live off of them.  
> Hope you enjoy it!

_ His headache grew considerably worse as his eyes stung with the glaring sunset light. Frank rolled over, attempting to cover his eyes with his forearm, his wound reminding him not to bend it too much. He saw it then, the new gauze over his left arm, clean, white, no dried blood mess like he was used to seeing. He noticed the patched up cigarette burn on his other arm, also covered, some clear cream on the cut on his knee.  _

_ It only took him a few seconds after waking up to remember her, his mind replaying her voice in the shower, her eyes clearly close to his. Somehow he remembered it well; it couldn’t have been such a lucid mind trick. _

_ She had to still be there then, he thought, wishing to take just another look at her to confirm everything. Dreading the reality, he struggled to get up, the hangover taking a heavy toll. Right past the curtains he spotted her shoes, her brown leather jacket hanging from a chair, her bag sitting on the table. Laurel slept next to her stuff, on a dirty, dark, moss green loveseat, arms hugging her legs, head resting on a sweatshirt for comfort. A burning sensation started on his chest and traveled to his face, arms, his hands. He started to sweat.  _

_ He walked around the loveseat where she slept, unsuccessfully attempting to stop the floor for creaking, afraid of waking her. She really could sleep anywhere when she was tired; he couldn’t help the flow of memories of how many times she had fallen asleep on his couch, in the car, even at the office when no one was looking. He stopped himself from brushing the hair off her face, like he always did... moved her hair to make room for his lips to kiss her neck, or just so he could look at her flawless fair skin, her perfectly curved and delicate lips and how her eyebrows softened when she slept.  _

_ Frank leaned against the kitchen sink, arms folded on his chest, and waited for her to wake up. _

 

                                                                                                                                                     ****

 

The corner of her eye caught a glimpse of him standing a couple of feet away, staring at her. She stood too fast, startled, messy hair falling over her face as she stepped behind the chair, as if it could somehow hide her from the inevitable confrontation. 

Laurel inadvertently let out a loud sigh, giving in to the relief that it was to see him well, and looked up, slowly. Their eyes met and she discreetly, involuntarily, stopped breathing; stopped thinking, gripping the back of the chair for support. 

_ For a second, maybe it was a half of a freaking second, Frank thought about running. Running towards her. Calling her to him. Thought of taking her in his arms. His hangover suddenly had nothing on what seeing her made him feel. _

She could swear he mouthed her name, wanted to call her. She avoided his eyes then, afraid that another second of staring at him would make her just walk and jump up, lose herself in his arms, expect him to catch her, and he would. She knew she had to say something. Speak her rehearsed speech, give him all the explanations before he even asked for them, tell him every argument she had prepared, but Frank beat her to it. 

_       - I don’t remember hiring a cleaning lady...or a nurse. _

_ He had to look down, couldn’t look at her, couldn’t believe what he was saying. But she didn’t belong there. _

Laurel swallowed hard, cleared her throat, taken aback by how fast the hollowed feeling hurt her chest again.

      - It’s free. - she barely managed to say, struggling to ignore the insult.

_ His heart dared him to stop, but he knew he had to. _

_       - You need to leave.  _ - _Frank said, ending his own hesitation._

She shook her head, pulled the sleeves of her dress down, feeling the cool air blowing in through the cracked window, refusing to believe this was happening.

__       - I mean it, you should go before it’s dark out. _ _

 

Laurel still denied him a single word of response, grit her teeth to keep herself from talking.

_Frank ran a hand over his face, a mix of confusion and exhaustion begging him for a drink._ _He started looking through cabinets, the cooler, the small space under the sink, taking the chance it gave him not to look at her._

She watched him pace back and forth, loudly opening and closing cabinet doors and  hesitated for a moment before addressing what she knew he wanted. 

      -  I threw everything out. Don’t waste your time. - she finally said.

      - _Not a goddamn drink left, huh? - he said, raising his tone._

Laurel took a deep breath. She knew she wasn’t going to get anywhere by engaging in a fight at that moment.

      -  I got here last night, this place was disgusting and you...you were asleep, drunk...wasted, actually.  God knows what else you were...so I cleaned up.

_       - I see that. Thanks. - he said, sarcastically. _

Laurel took a few steps forward, knowing it would make him uncomfortable. She knew she had to break through the coat of hostility he was wearing.

      - I didn't like seeing you that way. - she said in a soft voice, forcing herself to relax, trying to meet his look. - Is this all you have to say to me?

_ It became harder for him to focus with every step she took. The closer she was, the more uncomfortable he felt, the higher his need to tug on her dress, pull her into a hug...“Why wear that dress?” Suddenly that was the only stupid thing he could think. _

_       - Don't need your help, don't need you to be my freaking nanny. - he said, snapping out of it. - What are you even doing here? _

Out of all the answers she had prepared, somehow she didn’t think that question would come up. He should have known what she was doing there, why she was there. 

_ Frank gestured to the door, looking down.   _

Laurel scoffed, couldn’t help shaking her head and walking away from him.

_       - Look, I’m fine, just ...wasn’t exactly waiting for you.  -  he said, the pain of hurting her turning against him. _

There it was, the reminder. The night before, these words had tortured her with the idea of him waiting for Lorraine, not for her. The still too recent memory of the door being open like Lorraine had said, of the other woman carrying her necklace, all of it made Connor’s jerkish remark of Frank selling it for money not sound so bad. She stepped even further away, losing focus; felt the need for space the moment he announced it. She had prepared herself to deal with  _ almost _ everything.

The fastest escape was to go to the bathroom. Walk in, quickly. She leaned on the sink, the mirror fogged with her quick short breaths. She heard him pacing outside, heard noise. “Probably still looking for booze,” she guessed, but she had swept the place. Laurel turned the cold water on in the sink, put her face under it to numb it, then took one last look at herself in the mirror and nodded, a now serious, ready look. 

Suddenly she heard the noise of the car keys and pushed the door open. It didn’t take her long to catch up to him outside the front door, Frank just a few feet short from reaching the car.

      - Frank!! - she yelled.

He couldn’t go on at the sound of her calling out his name.

      - What are you doing?-  she yelled again, frustrated.

      - I...you can’t be here...I can’t be here with you…

His shaky tone drove her closer.

      - So you’re leaving me here alone? That’s your plan?

Frank looked at her standing barefoot on the gravel, wind slightly lifting her dress; could see her hands shaking even from a few feet away. The peaceful look on her face from minutes ago had turned into a sad, resentful image he was already responsible for. His shoulders dropped; it was his turn to get away, process things.

    _\- I just...I need a drink. I’ll be back soon._

Laurel took a deep breath, looking down to her feet to try to avoid the boiling anger, but it took seconds for it to wash away any decent judgement. She started walking towards him, her feet hurting.

      - You get in that car to go to that bar, Frank, and I swear to God I’ll report it stolen before you even leave this driveway.

He looked at her, incredulous, but didn’t budge, didn’t get the chance to react before she continued speaking through her teeth.

      - You don’t think I know exactly where you’re going? Who you’re going to see? And to driiink? - She said, dragging the i in a high pitched sound that denoted her anger. -  Do you have any idea the state I found you in last night? I mean, you could’ve…

Laurel placed the back of her hand on her mouth, holding the urge to cry at the thought of the past night. Frank looked away immediately; seeing her cry never got any easier. She pointed a finger to his chest, continuing her rant.

      - You put another sip of alcohol in your mouth, or any... other drug and I swear, Frank, I’ll fucking have both of you in jail by the end of this day. Substance abuse, stolen car, stolen...

      - _Both? What? -  he stopped her._

      - I know you were waiting for someone else and I don’t care if you don’t want me here, I’m NOT leaving until I know you’re not going to ...hurt yourself like you have.. 

      - _I wasn’t waiting...What? Just stop!_

_ His headache pulsed with her words as he tried to make sense of the yelling. _

      - Oh, please, Frank...no need to spare me. - Laurel said, her train of thought slipping at the jealousy that burst through - I went to the bar and she told me where you were. Said the door would be open because you were waiting for her, and oh she was so goddamn right, wasn’t she?  

_ He finally started connecting the pieces of how she had found the beach shed _ .  _ In this whole damn world, how the hell did she manage to find Lorraine, he wondered, growing angrier at his luck. _

Laurel kept challenging him, reading his face, Frank avoiding her eyes like an angry teenager who needs someone else to blame other than himself. He understood enough by now. She scoffed at his silence, but her voice came out shaky.

      - No denying huh? Just wondering how I found her? I met Lorraine at the bar last night, she tipped me off to where you were. - Laurel spoke as if she could read his thoughts. - Nice woman. Right?  We both liked her a lot, didn’t we? You, though...you really like her, I mean, look how far you came to be with her…

_ Admittedly amused by her jealousy, his mind caught up to what had happened while he drank last night. He had to get the crucial information he needed, taking the risk of making her even angrier. _

      - _How did you know I was in Maine to begin with? How did you find her?_

She inhaled, getting the courage; wasn’t planning to stop until the truth was out.

      - Don’t avoid my questions, Frank. Not again.

_\- I’m not avoiding your questions, I...I wish I knew the hell you’re talking about… -  he said, his hands in the air, this time looking straight at her._

Laurel ignored, sure of his act.

      - Just tell me to my face, Frank. All that talk about not knowing anything...about loving me...

Her voice trailed off. Laurel paused, placed both hands on her waist and turned her back to him. She felt it, the tingling sensation on her nose, the tears filling her eyes, her lips trembling. This cry was painful, not angry. If she couldn’t hold her cry, she could at least not give him the glory of seeing it. 

_ Frank scrambled his mind trying to understand, to remember. Nothing. No. Now it was hurting her, whatever wrong idea she had, and it wasn’t amusing anymore, far from it. _

    _\- Laurel… - he whispered, right behind her._

She felt his hand on her waist. At the sound of him saying her name, his hoarse voice saying her damn name, a plea, she couldn’t ...she dropped her shoulders, let her hands slide down her hips, one getting caught on his. She whispered, finishing her accusation.

      - You gave her my necklace. You took it from me and then you ran away...and you...you gave it to her? Why? Why would you do that?

_ Frank froze, gripping her hand. It all came back to him in a split second, a vague memory of one of the nights they drank, Lorraine asking about the necklace as it sat on the nightstand, him confessing to her all about Laurel, his coward move of not waking her up to say goodbye, grabbing the necklace as a souvenir, as if he needed something to think of her, to remember her. As if she hadn’t constantly been on his mind at every sip of alcohol he drank to forget.  _

_ Frank sped back to the shed, running to the other room. He shoved the curtain out of the way and pulled the drawer of the night stand so hard it flew off his hand, a loud thud on wood. ‘Shit.’  _

Laurel could hear the curse as she walked back slowly, eyes wide open, wondering what he was doing. 

_ Frank continued to look for it, moving the pillows, throwing  his clothes, walking to the other room and clearing every object off the table. ‘ fucking hell, where is it? I…I could’ve sworn…” he attempted to explain amid his desperate search. _

      - Frank? -  she said, calmly. - Hey! Hey!

She held his arm, forcing him to stop and look at her. As he faced her, Laurel pulled down the thin crew neck of her dress, showing him her necklace. She watched as his brows furrowed and his lips parted slightly, a look she recognized instantly.

      - I took it back. - she said, letting out a sigh and looking up to his eyes.

_ It was his turn to defend himself, stop her from wasting another minute swimming in wrong conclusions. He didn’t want that... that he couldn’t let it happen. _

_       - Listen to me... I didn’t give her anything. Yes, I took it, I shouldn’t have, but I kept it right in there... I...I would’ve never given that to anyone! Never! And don't say I came here to be with her! _

_ Her tears threw him off. Frank gulped and looked away. _

They stood, inches apart, both breathing heavily again. Laurel couldn’t avoid the deja vu of their first kiss, that angry, desiring kiss after a fight. She felt the muscles on her face burn, looked at his lips as he turned to her again, goosebumps travelling up her spine as she trembled, his breath slowing down as well.

_ Her lips drew his eyes, for a second, more than that, and he could practically taste it. They locked gaze on each other again, then he watched her whisper, coyly. _

      - So you didn’t give it to her?

She knew the answer but wanted him to say it. With both hands, she grabbed his shirt, pulled him slightly closer, closing the minimal gap between them, her nose touching his neck as she shivered. A few warm tears of relief still fell on her cheeks, and her heart beat faster as she recognized his scent again. She moved one hand to the back of his neck, forcing him to look at her, his warm breath causing her legs to weaken.

__       - Course not. -  he whispered back. _ _

 

_ The soft touch of her hand on his neck drove a rush of desire through his body. He knew she had to force him to look at her, he couldn’t watch her cry. He couldn’t hold a thought, couldn’t pull himself away either. Didn’t want to. Frank kissed her jaw line, then down her neck, knowing that should clear any hesitation from her, his already long gone. His hands finally obeyed him and moved to her back, hovering above her bra, then running down the back of her dress, stopping just over her underwear line, tracing it. _

      - Frank… - she practically moaned, eyes closed, her lips faintly brushing his - ...were you going to forget about me ...without my necklace?

_ He chuckled, looking up slightly, then driving his lips to bite her neck. ‘ Not a chance, killer’ he said as he tasted her fully and felt her melt into it.  _

_ His right hand slipped down to her thigh, squeezing it, then pushing her dress up as he felt every curve, resting it on her hip, feeling her quiver. _

Laurel tangled her fingers on his hair, the other hand lightly scratching his stomach under his shirt, ready to hold on if he thought of pulling away. 

She wouldn’t have pulled away if her phone hadn’t rang loudly, startling them. Frank glanced over at the screen, spotting Bonnie’s name. 


	17. Chapter 17

Frank broke their kiss apart without looking at her, unable to take his eyes from her phone screen. Laurel squinted amid ring, wishing he would just ignore it.

\- _Bonnie? The hell?_

\- I...sh...she’s worried.

They both reached for the phone but Laurel grabbed it quickly.  She touched the green circle as she quickly walked outside.

\- Bonnie. -  she spoke, still breathless.

\- So you do remember me.

\- Yea, I…

\- Where the hell are you, Laurel?

\- I...I found him. He’s...relatively okay. - Laurel said, lowering her tone, looking back to see if Frank wasn’t listening

There was a pause that made Laurel hesitate, unsure if she should start explaining things before Bonnie asked questions. No. Bonnie would ask every question she wanted to, so Laurel remained silent.

\- Drinking? To say the least?

\- Yes.  - Laurel confirmed. - You...knew, didn’t you?

\- Not the first time. I tried to prepare you.

\- Don’t know if I could have pictured what I found here.

She heard Bonnie sighing on the other side.

\- You’re going to have to be patient, Laurel.

\- It’s not that simple.  

\- I know - Bonnie whispered, almost apologetically, sensing the annoyance on Laurel’s voice.

\- He said..I think....he wants me to leave. . - she spoke, the feelings of the kiss still very much present.

\- Don’t. He needs you.

Laurel closed her eyes and nodded, forgetting Bonnie couldn’t see her.

\- Laurel? Are you listening? You have to stay.

\- Yea...I’m here. I’ll try.

\- Good. You can...do this. We need him. Stay.

\- I’m… I just...

\- You have to. I’m not taking a ‘no.’ I’ll call you soon.

Laurel stood still, looking at her phone and bit her inner cheeks, irritated at Bonnie’s quick dismissal. “Really? Oh, fine, bye Laurel, good luck!” she mentally mimicked, annoyed, and started walking back, knowing he’d be right where she left him. Sure enough there he was, again leaning against the sink, arms folded on his chest in the same defensive position.

__\- Gonna fill me in? - he asked._ _

 Laurel noticed the same harsh tone as before their fight, before their kiss. She decided not to attack back, not to push him away, her heart aching as she felt any encouraging feeling slip away.

\- What do you want to know?

__\- Since when are you two pals?_ _

\- I work for her, Frank. That was a work related call.

__\- Please, Laurel. - Frank scoffed. - Come on._ _

 She knew that had been a piddling lie.

\- She...she knows I’m here. She wanted to know how you are.

_It was Frank’s turn to show Laurel how significant the bond between him and Bonnie was, the way he averted her eyes and scratched the back of his hair giving away how worried he had suddenly grown. He took a few seconds to recreate his inquisitive look, to set his mind back on track and finally ask her more._

__\- How did you find me? How did you find Lorraine?_ _

 His voice speaking her name made Laurel wince.

She instantly picked up on the formal tone, perking up as she noticed Frank’s body language and wariness, signs that brought out familiar reactions in her: the momentarily happy numb state of mind from the kiss fading away, her somber look and her reasoning rising fast. Not the first time they’d confronted each other, their blame storming game beginning with too much pride from both.

\- My necklace has a tag that connects to the internet, allowing a security company to track it depending on the distance. Since you were far, I asked Oliver to hack intooo...several systems to pick up  wifi signals and it didn’t take that long to trace it all the way here.

She spoke without the slightest hesitation. She had predicted that question and the answer came out as rehearsed. Laurel waited a few seconds, let her words sink in, not removing her eyes from him. She could swear he rehearsed a smile, probably embarrassed for not figuring it out.

_Frank looked to the bare floor, walked in place like a dog wanting to find a place to crash. “Brilliant. Just...you’re...just goddamn brilliant” he thought as he curbed his smile._

__\- Is it...real? - he asked, gesturing to her neck._ _

\- Yes. A girl’s best friend, indeed.

__\- Joke’s on me. - he let out a nervous laugh, angry at his own stupidity._ _

 Laurel anticipated the next questions and started to explain, using her straightforward words to calm him, give him a sense of honesty she knew he needed.

\- Latest signal was from here, Sorrento, so I flew in yesterday, rented a car and drove into town...found the bar, met… - She paused to scratch her throat, breathing in between - ...met Lorraine.

_\- So she… - Frank said, following her thought._

\- ...told me you were here, yes.

- _Right. And the necklace?_

\- I...uh..figured out she had it and confronted her about it.

_\- And she gave it to you?_

\- Sure. You can say that. - Laurel nodded, sounding purposely snarky.

_Frank paused, trying to decipher her look, his head boiling with information. For a moment he looked around, hoping to see anything he could drink, numb the swirl of emotions._

__\- I didn’t know she took it. I’m sorry for that. She’s...she’s not a bad person, she’s just…_ _

 Unable to hide her disappointment, Laurel yelled without missing a beat.

\- I really don’t wanna hear your thoughts on her character, Frank. Actually, I don’t wanna hear your thoughts on her AT ALL.

__-_ _ _I was just saying she’s…_

\- I don’t care! - Laurel snapped. - I don’t care what she is, who she is, what you two have been doing every night, I don’t care!

 She started pacing, placing her hands on her waist so she wouldn’t show them shaking, angry for losing control. No, this wasn’t her, she didn’t get consumed with jealousy like that, not even when they had been caught by his girlfriend. This time it possessed her, rose to a level she had never felt before. For anyone.

__\- Woah, slow down. What are you saying? You think… - Then it hit him, that Laurel was jealous, and that Lorraine had probably given her a reason to be. - Wa..wa...wait._ _

 She turned to him…

__\- What did Lorraine say to you, Laurel? - Frank asked._ _

 ... and let it out, carelessly.

__\- Is she another ‘long distance” girlfriend you forgot to tell me about?_ _

  _Frank looked down, then at her. He took a few steps, watched her walk back to escape him, escape his answer. He shook his head and said it in a low, yet assuring, tone._

__\- No. And I didn’t sleep with her. Ever._ _

 Laurel avoided his eyes, suddenly feeling tons of pounds lighter, embarrassed of how relieved she probably looked.

\- She said you’d be expecting her, then I got here and the door was open and I ...just...

_Frank smirked._

__\- You assumed, and you’re wrong. I didn’t tell you about her because there was no reason for me to do so, but I DID tell her about you. And sure, maybe Lorraine was a bit too overprotective and implied that bullshit about us, and I have no idea why she’d take your necklace... but I was expecting her to bring booze, that’s it, not to do anything else. So relax. I’m not the kinda guy who needs to screw another woman to get over one._ _

 Laurel froze, felt her heart freeze as well and once again, her eyes filled with tears.

\- Get over? You’re getting over me? - she barely managed to say before betraying her words to Bonnie.

Frank tried to speak, panicked, uncertain, the images of his confessions and their fights rushing to his mind, disabling him.

\- I’ll make it easier for you. - Laurel said, as she quickly picked up her purse, grasped the car keys from the counter and closed the door behind her.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's a little bit more drama before things start to get better. :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm struggling a bit to find time to continue this, but a few of you convinced me that with you-know-what happening on season 3, we're going to need all the fix-it flaurel fic we can get. So here it is! I really, truly, deeply appreciate your comments and reviews!

“ _Get over me, then. I’ve had it, I don’t care. I come all the way here, clean up the entire place, patch up every single wound, have...fucking vomit on me, for what? To hear he came all the way to get over me? You’d think he’d figure out what I feel for him...but noooo..of course not...or he knows it and just doesn’t give a crap and the idiot here just collapses because…because…_

She knew why. Question was, did he?

Laurel inhaled, her breath shaky. She braked at a stop sign, wiped her face, wetting her hands and spreading the water over the steering wheel. She dragged her nails on the hard rubber, looked down and inhaled again, loudly. The pitch black roads showed no signs of other cars, so empty she had to laugh at herself for doing a full stop. Laurel kept accelerating up a steep hill, took a deep breath in as she felt that hollow feeling in her stomach, the one we feel when, for a split second, we can’t see the road ahead of us and imagine the car flying off, right before we reach the top and the car starts going down. She switched gears, put it on neutral. Let the wheels roll down til the bottom of the hill.

“ _...screw it... screw him, screw Bonnie, screw Annalise, screw my plan, just...to hell with all of you!_ ” she yelled the last few words out the now open window, then finally pulled over by the beach she had stopped on the entrance to town, the one she had made a mental note to return to, realizing she wasn’t even going to be able to enjoy it like she wanted. The hollowed feeling from the top of the hill never left her.

The smell of the ocean immediately hit her nose. It took only a few minutes until the cool air numbed her chest, the tears quickly dried up. 24 hours in Maine and she already had a deja vu feeling of crying out in the cold weather. She listened to the in and out rhythm of the waves wetting the sand and let it soothe her. “ _The 10 minute rage_ ,” her brother used to say, counting the time it took her to calm herself down, brain connections back to normal in a finger snapping second. Wait it out until one or two sobs were still there amid calm, long breaths.

She hit the power button on the radio and stepped out of the car, leaving the door open, then hopped on top of the hood and closed her eyes, still struggling to get her thoughts in order. The initial anger was gone, but the burning sensation, his voice in her ears, that was louder than the music, louder than her own reasoning. “ _God, this can’t. Be. Happening_.”

One thing she missed about Florida was being able to lay on the sand and look at the stars. Was it really just one thing? It was a sad answer, she knew that, but she could not get dragged into another destructive thought process. One hand on her hair and the other playing with the windshield wiper, legs on a ninety degree angle, she tried to avoid the frustration in her thoughts, tried to listen to the song playing and began doing what she did best.

“ _Right now you’re acting like a teenager from a telenovela, yelling at God from the hood of a goddamn car, Laurel. Be realistic…_ ” She knew she had to think ahead. “ _What are the chances of this working out? The plan? Frank and Laurel? Flaurel?_ ” She actually spoke it out, mocking Oliver’s creativity. “ _Truth is, you don’t need him. You can go home, back to Philly, carry on with your plan, explain things to Bonnie...God, Bonnie.._.” she remembered. Laurel rested her forearm on her face. “... _sent me here because she knew SHE wouldn’t put up with any of this crap from Frank...she wouldn’t, there’s no way…_ ”

Laurel felt the anger rising again, until another surge of thought rose in the back of her mind.

“ _Oh…unless...unless she already has… If just...just the memory of his awful life drives him to this stage…_ ” Laurel had to stop her thoughts from drifting into imagining what Frank must have been like when everything happened, certainly convinced that Bonnie had been there, done all she was doing, if not more. The songs on the radio came and went as she laid there considering every bit of her plan without Frank, every bit of her life, she dared to think.  

Not only her plan with Frank. Her plan way before she even met any of them.

_“How is it that my life turned into something worse than what it was in Florida...”_

She stopped herself. No. Liar. It was not worse. It won’t get worse. No.

What came first was not needing her plan to work. It was needing him. There was no logic that could convince her that she didn’t.

She pushed herself up, then slid off the hood of the car, back to the driver’s seat, admittedly scoffing at herself. “ _It’s okay to need him_ ,” she repeated in her mind, and an unexpected feeling of power settled on her chest.

He wouldn’t be at the shed, that she knew. The look on his face when she left, the expression of wanting desperately to say something, was all too familiar by now; Frank was never able to say anything unless pushed to the limit, but this time she hadn’t stayed to give him the time to talk. The bar was close enough that he could have walked, and she hadn’t been there to stop him. So Laurel drove to the bar, parked and calmly walked the same path she had the night before, pushing the heavy wooden doors.

It was the exact same scene as the previous night, the same men sitting as pawns to Lorraine’s queen status as the one handling the alcohol. All heads turned to Laurel. She could swear they hadn’t even left their stools the whole day, but now Frank’s eyes also saw her. She continued to walk, not a trace of uncertainty on her steps, all conversation muted when she reached the counter. They all sat silently for what felt like minutes until Lorraine couldn’t contain herself.

\- Wine list?  - she said, raising her eyebrows.

Laurel watched as Lorraine slowly leaned on the counter, right in front of Frank, and ignored one or two calls for her name across the counter. She quickly figured that if she wanted a second of Frank’s attention, she’d have to give Lorraine something to do.

\- I’ll have what he’s having, please.  - She said as she signaled to Frank’s drink, and grinned.

As Lorraine walked away, she got close to his ear and said, sharply.

\- Are you coming back to the shed with me or not?

\- Now?

\- Yes, Frank. Now.

\- You left alone before. So leave alone again.

He didn’t face her with his answer, murmured it through a sip, then took another right after. As angry as she felt, Laurel kept staring at him until Lorraine laid her glass of whiskey in front of her.

\- That’ll be $9.

\- Put it on his tab. - Laurel said as she walked away, not touching the drink.

\- You don’t want it? Not good enough for you? - Lorraine yelled.

\- I’m sure he won’t waste it. Have a nice night. Oh, Frank? - Laurel said right before she walked out. - I’ll leave the door open. 


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! TGIT!  
> Hang in there to the end to pass the angst and find a corny, full of fluff chapter because after the two weeks of the show (and specially after her confession last episode!!!!) I think we all need to see them being cute together. I tried. 
> 
> The song is "Sway", by Big Runca, and can be found [here](https://youtu.be/w28ZREQe3_Q) if you wan to play along. It is sooo flaurel.
> 
> Feel free to tell me what you think and hope you enjoy it! 
> 
> Find me on [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/bex-thinks)

Indeed, the door was open, offering no resistance when Frank pushed it, stumbling inside. The gust of cold air announced how late it was. Laurel jumped up from the loveseat, crossing her arms around her stomach. The first things to fall were old magazines from the top of the table as his hands slid through it, the surface too slippery for him to be able to grab on anything. Then a chair tumbled as he tried to prop himself up; the noise of the metal scratching the bare floor gave Laurel goosebumps. He sat on the ground, resting his arms and face on the legs of the chair. Inside, Laurel calmly walked towards him, then she noticed Lorraine outside, also walking in his direction, both women meeting face to face as he lay in the middle. **  
**

To Laurel’s surprise, she could actually see embarrassment, but not in Frank’s eyes. Lorraine’s look was enough to stop her from wanting to engage in any sort of confrontation. Instead, she kneeled and signaled to Lorraine for help with getting him up, each woman wrapping one of his arms on their shoulders, dividing the weight equally. They slowly laid him down on the bed.

\- Help me roll him on his side, please.

Lorraine obeyed.

Laurel left the room to get water and advil. Lorraine watched as she forced Frank to swallow the medicine and made him drink the whole glass. Then, she finished peeling off the bandage on his hand–it had started to peel off probably a result from him falling down–and went on to check the others: knees, arm, legs.

\- He got into a fight at the bar a couple of days ago. Cracked open a beer bottle. That’s how he hurt his hand.

Laurel just shook her head, complete disapproval in her eyes. Lorraine continued as Laurel taped up the new bandage.

\- I’m guessing the knees must have been trying to get firewood….drunk. I remember him pulling out splinters with a fishing plier.

Laurel nodded.

\- Pass me the antiseptic, please. - She asked.

Lorraine handed her the bottle, kept staring at Laurel as she spread it on Frank’s knees as he involuntarily flinched and mumbled something. Lorraine stayed another minute, waiting from any interaction from Laurel other than a command, but it didn’t take her long to realize she wasn’t going to get much, Laurel barely making eye contact.

\- I…didn’t…uh, I…should go.

Laurel rubbed her hands together as she came up from the bed, rolling the bits of tape glue off of her finger. She walked behind Lorraine towards the door.

\- He got really mad at me when I tried to stop serving him tonight…. I…you can ask everyone, I tried to stop, but he just…

\- Thank you for driving him back. - Laurel interrupted, uninterested in her excuses.

Lorraine didn’t miss the cue, turned around and left. The weight had always been on Laurel only.

For the next three days and three nights, the exact same scene happened over and over. Laurel felt like she was in one of those movies in which the protagonist wakes up and realizes he’s living the same damn day. Lorraine drove him back every night, and every night she had less to say. She pulled over, they supported him on the way to the bed, and she left, a lingering look on Laurel. On the third night, one of the men from the bar came along, carried Frank inside as this time he wasn’t even awake to be able to sustain himself. The two women wouldn’t have been able to help him by themselves. Laurel walked the guy to the front, a way to say thank you and overheard Lorraine say before she had a chance to close the door:

\- I don’t know how she fucking does it.  

After she turned the lock, Laurel leaned against the door, looking back into the other end of the shed where he slept. For a few minutes, she let herself go, slid down and cried a heavy, painful cry, until the tears dried and she stood, wiped her eyes on her sleeve and went on to the bedroom.

Throughout the day, when he wasn’t at the bar, he fished, stayed out in the woods, walked in to shower and left, mid afternoon, to drink. If not at the bar, then God knows where. Laurel read briefs, washed sheets and towels, went through pages of cases she had saved on her laptop, made her way to the beach she had wanted to see. In the evening, she made him a meal for the middle of the night, when he came home drunk. In brief moments of sobriety, the only words he used were variations of sentences that told her she should leave.

She didn’t.

Through all of it, she didn’t say a word.

Around two o’clock on the fourth day, she put her bathing suit back on, and could swear she caught him looking when she changed into it. She drove the car to the end of the driveway, closer to the lake, and turned the volume up so she could hear the music while she dared the frigid water and went swimming. The days had been lonely, quiet. She needed to feel alive somehow.

This time, Frank watched. “Maybe it’s the music,” she thought, noticing that he didn’t get up to go shower as he had on the other days. As she splashed into the water, he scared her by yelling:

-  _You’re going to scare the fucking fish!! Get out of the water!_

Laurel dove under one more time, so he wouldn’t see the disappointment on her face, and quickly emerged, swimming toward the edge. Frank watched as she calmly walked out and picked up her towel from a tree branch. He kept following her with his eyes as she walked back to the car and lowered the music volume, then went around to spread the towel on top of the hood of the car, laying on it and letting the warmth of the sun burn away her need to cry. A few tears still managed to escape as she grabbed the ends of the towel, forcing herself to stop shaking.

_Frank regret the words the minute they left his mouth. When she lay on the hood of the car, he could see her struggle not to cry, could see her body shivering as she tried to even her breath. An unendurable pain rose in his chest._

From the corner of her eye she saw him throw the fishing rod on the grass and rush inside. “To go to the bar earlier today,” she assumed. She lost herself in the songs that came and went on the radio.

A few minutes into the country melodies, she felt his presence by the car.

                                                                ***

_Frank kicked open the back door, wiping the sweat of his face as he paced back and forth, struggling to maintain regular breaths. The pulsing on his temples announced the incoming headache. He plopped himself down on the loveseat she had been sleeping on, and a whiff of her perfume immediately reached his nostrils, calming him down as he breathed her in. None of the idiotic and cruel things he had been doing these past days had even made her look different, let alone act differently. She wasn’t leaving, she was going nowhere. He knew it was a basic, teenagish trick, to act like a prick to force her to reach her limits and leave. Of course it hadn’t worked. This was Laurel. Determined to do good, idealistic Laurel who wanted to save everyone, even those people like him, that couldn’t, or shouldn’t be saved._

_But maybe he hadn’t really wanted her to leave. Maybe he actually hoped she could save him._

_There it was, the thought he’d been repressing. He knew better than to hope; it always led to misery._

_When that thought reached his mind, when it made its way through all the layers he wore, he needed to get out. When hope awoke from where it had been buried, when he dared to imagine what it would be like if she actually left, he wanted to drink. When he allowed himself to think of a life with her, he wished to die._

_Impulsively, he grabbed his guitar and went outside to find her._

                                                             ***

Laurel sat up, resting on one elbow as she slightly twisted her body toward him. She furrowed her eyebrows trying to figure him out, unsure of what step to take, what to think, as he turned off the radio. He hadn’t approached her for four days, not sober at least, hadn’t even…looked at her in the eye, like he just did. They locked gazes for a second, half a minute, until she tried to swallow the lump on her throat. He reached for her hand, and joined her on the hood of the car.

_Frank rehearsed a stroke on the D chord, then another on the E, feeling the tone, repeating it._

\- What are you doing? - She somehow managed to say without crying.

\- _Bear with me…_

\- Frank…

_\- I heard you singing this song the other day.  -  he said as he glanced at her and back at strings, the guitar being the only thing that separated them. - Not sure if I know all the lyrics but I was hoping you could help me with that._

\- I can’t sing… - she whispered, holding her tears.

\- _That’s not true. I heard you before._

_His hoarse voice started singing and Laurel was happy she was sitting._

                                                         “Don’t stray  
                                                  Don’t ever go away  
                                    I should be much too smart for this

                                           You know it gets the better  
                                                    Of me sometimes  
                                                When you and I collide  
                                           I fall into an ocean of you

Frank looked her in the eye, watched her warm tears run down her cheeks as he pleaded: 

                                                  “Pull me out in time

                                                    Don’t let me drown 

Laurel drove her hand to her mouth, unable to control her sob as he continued.

                                            “I say it’s all because of you   
                                                       and here I go  
                                                  Losing my control  
                                               I’m practicing your name  
                      So I can say it to your face, it doesn’t seem right  
                                                To look you in the eye  
                                      And let all the things you mean to me  
                                 Come tumbling out my mouth indeed its time”

She moved her hand and reached for his hair, combing it with her fingers.

_Frank closed his eyes and kept playing, her touch bringing him to let out a deep, loud sigh as the tears took over._ She swirled her hand as a signal for him to keep playing and sang the second verse.

                                           “And there’s no cure  
                                          And no way to be sure  
                              Why everything’s turned inside out  
                                         Instilling so much doubt  
                                            It makes me so tired  
                                              I feel so uninspired  
                                 My head is battling with my heart  
                                    My logic has been torn apart  
                                                    And now?

She raised her eyebrows, following the question of the song.

                                               Sway my way  
                                         Yeah I need to know   
                                              more about you

_Putting the guitar aside, Frank bent down, laying on her legs and sobbed._

_\- I’m sorry, Laurel. Please forgive me. I’m so sorry… I’m so sorry…_

\- Shhhh, it’s okay. - She interrupted -  I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. It’s okay.

Laurel leaned over his head, kissing it.

But even though she felt unbelievably lighter…happier…she knew the hardest part would be next.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I wanted to post this fluffy chapter before tonight. I really do hope I get to continue writing this, but if not, I wanted to say thank you to those who read this, who took a minute to leave kudos and a million thanks to those who left comments.  
> You guys are amazing. I hadn't written anything in 10 years and, if it all goes to hell tonight, Flaurel will always mean so much.  
> Liz, thank you for editing and for all your input, always!  
> Jules, thank you for all the excitement and support.  
> Hope you enjoy it!

_That evening, Frank didn’t go to the bar. For days he had surrendered to the urge for alcohol, to the need to wash away with liquor the angst in his chest. Not once had he wanted to beat that urge. As hard as it was to escape to his bourbon, to leave her alone to protect her from himself, it was still a lot easier than staying._

_That evening, as he sat on the loveseat in exhaustion, he thought of reaching for his guitar as he watched her on the roof of the car, knowing that it would only take a moment free of hesitation for him to give himself up for her. So he stood, eyes on the guitar, recalling every moment with her. It was there, the possibility of life with her, she was there, so he walked towards her, song in his mind, aware of the hope burning like a wildfire. So he swayed._

_That evening, he knew he was hers. That evening, he would love her. And loving her was a much harder addiction to resist._

_****_

Unsure of how long it had been since they’d been lying there, Laurel felt her skin awakening, the hair on her arms perking up, her body suddenly aware of her damp bathing suit. Every inch of her where he touched was still warm, the contrast of cool and warm causing a chill to run down her spine.

- I’m cold - she said as she watched a cloud cover the sunlight, giving them more shade, as if warning them to go inside.

_He looked up, blinking fast, trying to take everything in. They must have been there forever, he thought, once he realized he had dozed off. Frank brushed his beard on the elastic of her bathing suit, slowly kissing between her breasts. He squinted one last time. She was still there. As he started moving himself off of her, they heard her stomach growl and she laughed, loudly, yet shyly._

\- And I'm hungry too, apparently. - she said.

_She was laughing, he thought, and took a moment to just watch her do so. Then he slid off the hood, stretching a hand to help her do the same. As they walked inside, she gently tried to untangle her hand from his, but Frank held on, pulled it towards his face and kissed her knuckles, one by one..._

Laurel saw it, again, tears forming as he took his time holding her hand, in his gaze the fear, as if she was going to disappear if he let go. She watched him smile, probably embarrassed that she saw right through him, but when she turned around to open the fridge, looking for food, he pushed it closed.

-  __Sit down. -_ He said, pointing to the loveseat, his accent spilling through his usual attitude - _You’ve done enough around here._ _

 Laurel couldn’t help by smile. While he worked, the clink and clatter of the minimal supplies they had in the shed somehow turning into a full fried fish, rice and vegetables meal, she commented on how much better he was at cooking than she was, wondered if it was too soon to joke about him going to the bar so he wouldn’t have to eat her food, and decided that if she was going to have to bring up her plan, she might as well clear the air before that.

\- I’m surprised you came back at all after that pasta I made two days ago.

_Frank snickered._

__\- It wasn’t...terrible._ _

 It was her turn to giggle.

\- Yeah, right…

__\- Hey, you’re a great...caretaker?! You clean really well, too!  - He joined her on the jokes, looking over his shoulder as he watched her head jerk back in laughter._ _

\- Perfect, then, huh?

__\- Indeed. - He said as he winked at her, causing her to blush._ _

  _****_

She walked out of the shower as he grilled the last fish, the butter, salt and basil on the juicy golden surface making her mouth water. On the table, a single candle was stuck to the metal top of a condiment bottle, in between the paper plates, plastic forks and two mason jars that worked as cups, a full improvised dinner set.

Frank saw her smiling at it.

__\- Sorry...best I could do…_ _

__-_ _ _Stop. It’s...it’s really nice._

 _-_ _I swear I’ll treat you to something a lot better when…_ \- he cleared his throat, looked down, avoiding her eyes. - You ready to eat?

 She nodded, separating the damp parts of her hair with her fingers as he served her, then himself.

The fish melted in her mouth and Laurel closed her eyes, letting out a moan that made him raise his eyebrows.

__\- I recognize that sound - Frank said, the grin on his face causing Laurel to try hard not to smile. - I take it you...approve?_ _

\- It’s fantastic, Frank.  

\- Good. I’m glad.

After a few bites he took her hand again, rubbing his thumb on her palm. She gave him a light corner of her mouth smile, caught in the middle of the need to talk, so much to talk, so much to say, and wishing she didn’t need to say anything at all. She noticed his struggle to voice his feelings, his fears and concerns, and she was so aware of his internal battle she almost spoke for him. But no. Her speech was ready, her reasoning was strong and her mind was made. It was going to be hard and brutal, the conversation they needed to have, and right now the fish was getting cold.

 - So seafood and Italian food? What else? - she said, going for a normal conversation.

\- Some damn juicy burgers and seasoned fries, don’t think I’ve ever made you that.

 - Don’t think so but I’ll take it.

\- Nonna’s risotto recipe is spettacolare. - He said as he kissed the tips of his fingers, the celebratory italian gesture he really didn’t use much. - Isn’t that one of your favorites?

Laurel smiled fully now, and her smile took his breath away. He just stared.

\- Stop looking at me like that, you’re making me feel like a teenager.. Go back to telling me what you can make.

\- I make a flavor bursting Paella.  - he said without taking his eyes from her.

Laurel’s eyes widened. It was her absolute favorite.

\- Seriously? Can that be the next thing you make...soon...tomorrow?

It was his turn to laugh, and then she understood why he had been staring. It was promising, the happiness, and powerful, but to experience it right there was also so fragile she felt she had to grab it, not let it slip away. The pain and the pleasure had always been intertwined, one overcoming the other at any given moment.

\- Let’s talk dessert… - she suggested, wanting to hold on to that feeling a little bit longer - What can you offer me?

\- Key lime pie? - Frank raised one eyebrow.

\- Oh wow. Ok. Sure...but here’s a warning: when you make that, make two.

\- Two?

\- In case you want any. Because I will _definitely_ eat one by myself, alone! Then I’m going to feel sooo guilty and you’re going to have to put up with me blaming you for letting me eat an entire key lime pie.

 She looked for a smile on his face and immediately wished she hadn’t as she saw his body tense, the cheerful energy of seconds ago had already vanished.  Their smiles were cut short as he looked down at his plate. Something she said struck him wrong, she knew, and just like that it was over.

\- What is it? - She asked in a soft voice as she took his hand, but he pulled back.

__\- Nothing. Just...eat...finish it. - Frank responded sharply._ _

She ran her words in her mind, once, then again, and it didn’t take her long to realize how poor her choice of words had been, ‘guilt’, she had said, of all the words she could use, but if a distraction had started this confrontation and given her her cue, she wasn’t going to stop now. It was time. The anticipation of what was about to happen pulsed so loudly in her chest she could hear it. Laurel put her fork down, took a big sip of water, slowly, then spoke after a deep breath, Frank’s eyes on her.

\- When I got the notice I got into Middleton, I googled every single professor I’d probably have on my first year. And it wasn’t to figure out if they were nice, easy or tough graders. I looked at their rates, experience, most famous cases, their articles, community work, academic involvement, even their private lives. I looked at everything, Frank. Including Annalise. Including you.

Frank shook his head, stopped chewing the food in his mouth and swallowed it like it was, interrupting her to not even let her try to take the blame for this.

__\- No...no, no... Where do you think you’re going with this?_ _

__-__ I knew about the K-4, as it used to be. I knew I wanted to be in it from the moment I read about it.

-  _I picked you, Laurel._

 _-_ _Frank..._

 _-_ _I picked you! Me! I am the reason you’re in this!_

 _-_ You’re not. - Laurel said, calmly. - You couldn’t have guessed. None of us knew.

\- Enough about this, laurel!

Laurel stopped, almost panicking, afraid her approach wasn’t going to work, his guilt was deeper, harsher than she’d imagined. But they were already at a loss, apart and broken, and to recover that connection she had to crack the duality of their separate lives; that was the only path she could walk through.  

__\- I picked you...out of dozens of students because...because you were beautiful, and smart, and you flew under the radar and you noticed things. I figured we could win you...use you to make it look like the firm had a freaking heart. Don’t you get it? She wasn’t going to pick you. I picked you!_ _

\- And I was happy about it, Frank. I wanted to be in it. I wanted to learn. I thought it was the best for me.

_Frank couldn’t understand why she didn’t seem bothered, why she wasn't angrier at him, and he knew he was going to have to do it. “Just fucking end this” he thought as he took one deep breath, ready to do what he should have done a year ago. This should have never even started._

__\- It doesn’t matter if you wanted this.You’re not going to convince me I didn’t cause this...this hell that is your life right now. D’you get that? I’m….look, this is it for us. This is it, okay? I wanted to have one last night with you, just treating you well one last goddamn time. But this can't go on, I can't let this go on for another day. I did what I could to get the message to you without having to tell you but...you’re...this is it, Laurel._ _

Laurel felt tears pricking her eyes and closed them tightly, letting one or two escape. Frank pushed his chair back loudly, grabbed his plate and threw it in the garbage, food sticking in all sides of the bag.  

\- No.

He let out a long sigh, deflating his chest in exhaustion, voice coming out weak.

\- Laurel…you should…

\- Do not tell me to leave, Frank, because you're going to have to make me!  

\- I'll leave first thing tomorrow then!

\- Fine. - she said, nodding.

_Frank stared at the ground, shoved his hands in his pockets and inhaled deeply, her acceptance surprising him after all._

Laurel stood, narrowed eyes searching for him, then fixed on his, aiming, making him unable to look away. She shot her logic.

\- But if this is my last night with you, then you’re going to shut the hell up and listen to what I have to say. I’m not walking away from here after _everything_ we’ve been through without having this conversation with you. So if after I say what I need to say you still want me to leave, or you still wanna leave, fine! But you can be sure, Frank, that If I walk out that door, that is the last you’ll ever hear from me. Is that clear?

_Frank tried to talk, tried to fight her, make her quit, but his whole body betrayed him as he leaned on the counter, arms crossed, and slowly nodded, conceding._

\- I know… - she finally paused for air, looking up to avoid showing him any more tears - I know what guilt is. I know what it's like to be consumed by it. It’s like a dark room on the corner of your brain that you don’t dare to revisit, because when you do it, you feel like the doors close and you can’t escape it. It takes your air away, presses your chest as if you’re buried six feet under, but you’re still alive and conscious, feeling every bit of the pain that guilt brings. Yet, you can’t move.

_Frank blinked full, hot tears and Laurel wished she could stop, could just hug him, cradle him in her arms to allow him to cry the guilt away._

\- I can’t imagine what it was like for you to revisit the night the baby died when Sam …

Frank shook his head, his left hand on a fist covering his mouth, begging her to stop.

\- ...when he asked you to kill Lila…

\- Stop… - he managed to whisper.

\- You felt it, all over again, with ten years of build up. You felt all the pain it brings to think about it, re-lived it, the effort to push it away gone in a second, and what an effort you made, building the Frank I met initially ...but I know that you had the air knocked out of you when you realized you had to kill that girl. - Laurel stopped, considered taking a different approach, but knew she needed to make him talk. - That’s why you choked her, isn’t it? Did he ask you to kill her like that?

_Frank felt the bile rising so fast he could barely make it to the sink, the undigested dinner hurled out. He coughed the rest amid sobs as the water pushed it down the drain. Angrily, he turned, to her, looking like a rabid dog, ready to bite her, to give her what she deserved for provoking him, but Laurel stood still, stood taller, still, and Frank let out a loud sob._

\- I looked at her…looked at her,okay? I…

\- Why, Frank? You wanted to kill her?

\- _No!_

\- Then why smother her? Why... look at her? Why not just shoot her? Cut her? I mean, besides the obvious neatness of it all. Tell me, Frank! Tell me! Just tell me! - Laurel yelled, taking a step every time she repeated herself, til she was an inch from him. - Tell me why you would kill Lila in such a personal way!

- _Because I saw myself!_ \- he said, still wiping his mouth, through another sob. - _I pressed til the air was gone and the life erased from her... because I wished that was me. I imagined myself and how many times I wanted someone to just make me stop breathing for good...and every goddamn day I still wish it was me left without air, Laurel...that he just decided to kill me instead…that he let me kill myself every time I wanted to!_

Frank’s shoulders dropped and he leaned back again, resting his elbows on the counter, panting.

Laurel walked back, giving him time to breathe. She sat on the arm of the loveseat, her legs giving up as she heard the details. Imagining them, no matter how close she had come to figuring out why, would had never been so brutal. She watched his composure fall through.

_Frank kept speaking amid sobs, words slipping out of his mouth without shame, without the hesitation he had felt for months. She was there, listening, as he shared every scar he had, came undone in front of her, for her, again._

__\- Since Annalise’s baby died, my... my blood runs cold...feel...like one of those corpses that….that med students practice on, laying there to serve no purpose other than to do as I’m told. I went on for ten years not allowing myself to have any feelings, emotions, without any warmth or consideration...til…_ _

\- ...til Sam asked you...- she said, thinking she knew where he was going.

_Frank let out a sigh._

__\- No...until you, Laurel. You and your uncanny need to do good things. You and your sweet naive way of seeing the world, your insistent faith in people. You have seen the worst, you’ve lived awful things, yet you walked in with this idealistic view and I...breathed...again...and I couldn’t understand how you did that. You walked in and I suddenly felt myself thinking of all the wrong things I did. I saw myself having difficulty doing simple things, following simple orders I used to follow without missing a beat. I thought about things. I felt them. And every single day things just got harder and harder to do, lying to you made me sick. It was like I woke up from a coma and I desperately wanted to live. I dared to feel things again. I dared to, God… to think you could love me, to try to see us, you and me a few years ahead ...except..._ _

\- Except what? - Laurel followed his pause quickly, heart beating fast again.

__\- Except that while I felt alive for the first time in years, I watched you die. I watched all my lies ruin us. You are good, Laurel. Too good for me. You are going to do good things, but only if I'm not there dragging my bloody past with behind you. What I said to you when I met you, about you wanting to change the world...don’t lose that. You are better than all of this._ _

\- I can't... 

__\- Laurel…_ _

\- You left me so you wouldn’t watch me die and here I am, Frank. What you don’t see is that I...

Laurel’s lips trembled forcing her to pause, an overwhelming idea of not being with him again forcing tears.

\- ...I only started dying when you left...

As she stood up, she expected him to retreat, walk back, but he just watched her take steps toward him and once he didn’t move, Laurel knew something had started to resonate.  

__\- What are you saying? - Frank whispered._ _

__-__ I’m saying that I need to see what you saw again. I need you to have hope for us. I can’t handle you wanting to live here, dying slowly.

_\- Doesn't work like that… Look, I'm sorry for putting you through this but you shouldn't be here in the first place._

\- Why not? So I don't stop you from dying in a self pity?...

 _\- Don’t know another way to deal_..

\- Really? And how’s that going for you huh, Frank?

_\- I'm not like you!_

\- Stop! Just… Stop! I’m _not_ going to let you drown yourself in sorrow, booze and guilt. Nothing good comes out of that. Stop hiding behind that. It does nothing for you, not a goddamn thing. You don't have to be like me, but I need you to be with me because I am so much better with you, Frank! We are going to heal, or get as close as we can of that. We are not going to sit still and do nothing anymore because it _doesn’t_ change the past nor the future.

Frank opened his mouth to talk, to fight her, but the power in her words was hard to ignore, the hope in her loud arguments too passionate to not feel it, so he pressed his lips closed, resigning.

\- There is no wall that you can build that I can’t see through. More importantly: There is no wall that I build that can protect me from what I feel from you.

__\- You mean…?_ _

\- Would I have come all the way here if I didn't love you?

Could this have been happening? Could his delusional hope could have been meaningful? Frank wondered, immediately restraining himself, turning his back to her.

Laurel felt a sharp pain in her chest; gasped for air before restarting.

\- You don’t believe me, do you? - Laurel asked, the dread starting to sink in, forcing her to think this could not work after all.

\- I...You’d be better off, Laurel...What would we even do? I’m ruined.

\- What If I tell you I thought of that too? About what we’re gonna do?

\- What?

\- I have a plan to get us back, Frank.

\- A plan? This isn’t high school...

\- Do not undermine me, Frank. You said you’d listen to everything I had to say and I’m not done yet.

\- A plan for what?

\- To go back. We’re going back.

Frank snickered and Laurel stared, angrily.

\- You expect Annalise to just forgive me? Forgive you, for wanting to side with me? Wake up, Laurel.

\- No, I don’t. I don’t think she’ll ever forgive you. But we’ll make her forget. Or put it behind her.

\- What? The hell are you talking about?

\- When I heard about Mahoney, I knew I recognized him from somewhere, and I was right. Mahoney was my father’s financial advisor and recently lost him a lot of money.

 - ...shit...

\- Just listen! I went to see my father, told him Annalise was Mahoney’s attorney when...when you were all in Ohio. I said to my father that Annalise was feeling threatened by Mahoney’s death, that people would connect hr to him.  With Wes being in jail-- he's out--  Annalise was thinking that Wes would rat her out, that we would say something.

\- jail?

Laurel signaled that she would return to that point. 

\- We? As in you and me?

\- Yes, of course as in you and me, Frank. I told my father about our relationship. So I said Annalise was panicking, and then I told him that Annalise sent me to talk to him, to try to find a reason, a suspect, a person, a connection between my father and Mahoney to incriminate our family.

\- And where do I come in?

\- I told my father you ran away because you refused to be a part of Annalise’s plan to ruin my family.

\- What? What plan? Laurel what in...

\- Let me finish! There is no plan. She has no plan but that is exactly why it works. I said  that after you ran away, supposedly so as not to incriminate my father on the murder like she asked you, that she had lost her mind and was ready to ruin us all.

\- Tell me Annalise actually has a plan against usI, Laurel?!

\- No. She doesn't. At least I don't know of one. Neither does Bonnie. And my father...uh.. doesn’t know that Annalise doesn't have a plan.

Frank stared at her, his mouth open in complete disbelief as he began to understand where she was going. 

\- You told your father all that? You made that whole thing up? Jesus Christ, are you trying to get us all killed?

\- It makes sense, Frank! I told him that she had sent me to talk to him to try and get a confession, get something that we could use, but I cried and said to him I could never do that, no matter how much I hate him. And that we needed to be a step ahead. Are you following me?

\- Yea... - Frank said, suddenly interested in what she was saying.

\- With Wes being questioned, Annalise is actually afraid and you know she would stop at nothing to connect anyone to Mahoney’s murder...

\- Does Wes know about your plan? Does Bonnie?

\- Bonnie does. That's why she was calling me. She's covering for me. My father contacted John Brown and he went in and got Wes out of jail, because we’re gonna need Wes to keep his mouth shut about all of it. But I can handle him.

\- What now?

\- So I convinced my father that finding someone who COULD be guilty for Mahoney’s murder will be far more interesting than letting Annalise play that card. And that whoever he wants to send to jail could, at any minute, say that Annalise paid him to. Confess to not acting alone. Whoever my father is sending to jail can say that he met you, and that you paid him to kill Mahoney through Annalise’s orders.

\- Are you...Jesus Christ, you’re fucking nuts...lemme get this straight. You, Laurel, are blackmailing your father into blackmailing Annalise, because he thinks she blackmailed you and me into ruining your family?

\- Yeah....I know it sounds insane...

_\- It IS insane!_

\- Do you have a better idea? and what...you’ve never seen anyone play double agent before?

- _Yeah, I have, and they ended up dead, Laurel! Why the fuck would we trust your father? Why would he believe us?_

\- Because for all I know, he might have done it, Frank. He might have killed him. And he'd be interested in finding a scapegoat. He also bought my act as if I finally cared about my family's name, which is the most important thing to my father. And for his businesses. Or do you think he want the bad publicity? 

_\- And Annalise would buy it because... she might have done it… and she appreciates her career...- Frank said, walking back and forth, thinking out loud._

\- And my father will stop at nothing to protect his name. Just like Annalise. My father knows that if he doesn’t agree with me, I’ll sell him out to Annalise, and she will get him thrown in jail. So they will live the rest of their lives afraid of each other without ever having discussed this.

_\- You gotta be joking if you think this is going to work._

\- It is. It’s all we got. It has to work.

_\- So we go back and tell her what?_

\- We go back and we tell her to let the others out. Let them transfer. Do whatever they want. And Bonnie becomes equal, a major partner.

Frank scoffed at her ambition, a mix of fear and admiration.

_\- And me? And...you? You're transferring and what do I do? I'm not a lawyer, I can't just keep..._

\- Who said I'm transferring?  I'm not going anywhere, Frank. Not without you. So you tell me what you want. You can do regular paralegal work, I have my ambitions. But we stay. 

_\- You've lost it._

\- Maybe. Maybe I have. But I’m hopeful... And I’m in love.

Frank’s face softened as he watched her rest her case, her eyes glassy with tears and sweet expectations stamped on her half smile.

\- But I need you. I can’t do this alone, so I need you to come back with me and tell Annalise that we want out, otherwise my father’s hitman talks. We are good people then. No more bad things. No more fake evidence, no more bribery. No more blood. We’ll do good things, together, good cases, good clients, fair trials. But I need you with me; I can’t pull this off by myself. She’ll come after you and I’ll collapse. And in case it isn’t clear, Frank, I am here for you because I forgave you long ago. And I don’t know what that says about me, but what I absolutely cannot fathom is you not taking this chance with me. What I won’t forgive you for is you choosing this dark guilt over me.

For what felt like time enough for a jury to rule on a dozen cases, Laurel didn't move, didn't even flinch as she waited for his response. As if time had frozen, her heart beat felt as slow and as loud as ever, and suddenly, the song he sang was her only recollection; her mind was free of all charges, all arguments and all promises.

__\- Come here._ _

In that moment, Laurel’s legs gave out just in time for him to catch her. In that moment, she buried her face in his chest, feeling the tension escape her body with his hug, enlacing her fingers behind his neck. In that moment, as she cried her anxiety away, she felt invincible. She had him, with her, and just like that her hope beat every fear.

__\- You’re brilliant. And I’m gonna be there with you. It’ll work. And we will do good things._ _

__-_ _ You mean that?

_\- Y_ _eah._

  _Frank lifted her chin, finding her red, watery eyes, this time holding the gaze. He then moved to look at her lips, then back to her eyes, as of asking for permission._

All Laurel could do was close her eyes and slightly part her wet, soft lips, allowing him.

Frank met her mouth with his and the warmth of his kiss caused her to moan. They tasted each other as Frank wondered if he'd ever have enough of her. Before he knew it, the intensity of the kiss had driven him to to start working her buttons, unzipping her pants, his hands sending tremors to run down her spine. Laurel felt her legs go limp, and in a swift move, Frank grabbed her thighs, pulling her up to straddle him, their lips parting.

\- Bed? - he said, smiling, then kissing her neck.

\- Love...seat.

\- I missed you, princess.

\- Then prove it.

 


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of Laurel winning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi to...no one, probably, because no one still reads this.
> 
> Obviously we know that the show is now garbage and Donald Trump is president and nothing matters anymore.   
> But I owed this to myself, because this was the first thing I ever wrote and I decided to finish it for myself.   
> So this note is probably to myself. I don't care much about the show or flaurel anymore, but I wanted to finish this exactly like it is here since the first sentence I wrote, so here it is.

The campus looks exactly the same as it did last year. He watches a few students finish up breakfast under a tree, others relaxingly play frisbee while a few of them roam in as the clock nears 9 AM, anxiously looking for their classrooms' numbers. 

In the meantime, she weaves through the anxious freshmen hoarded by the bulletin board, making her way to the front, can't help but notice how empty the board looks without the missing person posters from last year. It looks clean, new. She attaches the schedule informing that criminal law 100 will meet at the study hall and heads back inside without acknowledging him, as he leans against the door, arms crossed and not a sign of empathy on his face.

_ He carefully examines each and every young person walking in, looking to recognize faces from files or see if anyone would stand out. The auditorium quickly fills with fresh faces and the perceptible smell of innocence, all of them so hopeful it's almost pitiful. _

She takes a sit all the way in the back of the room, not a word said to anyone, till she hears two pretty looking tanned blonds talk on the row in front of her.

\- Who is the hot ass dude by the door? 

\- I have no idea but I could barely walk past him without sweating!

\- Right? I stumbled to find my seat because I couldn't stop staring! 

\- Can't be a student...or maybe he is, and If so, I'm so ready for group projects! 

\- And hey, no wedding ring...

\- ...a perfectly legal distraction then...

The giggles make her sigh loudly, then lean forward and whisper, purposely serious.  

\- I hear he's not into blondes.

The two girls turn back, surprised by the audacity of the one sitting behind them. One of them shoots, unintimidated. 

\- Oh really? So what is he into...pale, boring nerdy looking brunettes? - she scoffs. 

They laugh again as she shrugs and leans back, a smug smile on her face. 

Annalise walks in with decisive steps while a few students quickly scramble to find their seats, the room suddenly going quiet. He lets the blond woman in and closes the door, locking it. If you're in, you're in. 

"Good morning. I don't know what terrible things you've all done up to this point in your lives but clearly your karma's out of balance. I'm Professor Annalise Keating, and if you don't know that by now, Law school is not for you. If you have heard of me and decided that you wanted to take this class with me anyway, then that is the first right decision you have made in your life. This is Criminal Law 100. Or, as I prefer to call it...-  she says whilst writing it on the whiteboard with a red marker -... HOW TO GET AWAY WITH MURDER."

The four of them exchange looks as the students whisper and attempt to smile, a mix of curiosity and fear visible on their awkward expressions. 

“Let me begin by introducing my team. This is Bonnie Winterbottom, criminal law attorney and my partner at the firm. She learned everything with me, and then some, and when I can’t handle you people, she can. Bonnie.”

Bonnie walks a few steps toward the center of the room, stopping close to Annalise’s desk. She projects her voice, but just a bit, and says a few words. Concise, fast, gloomy.

“Think of me as a test. Always. You pass through my approval, you get to Annalise. If I don’t judge you worthy of it, she sure won’t. Please me, please her.”

_ He swung his body away from the door, his presence so strong he had no need to walk to the center. He spoke. _

_ “...and I need to be pleased too, since I do the dirty work. Now, boys and girls, don’t get too excited. I mean the dirty legal work, such as research, filing, drafts. Name’s Frank...Delfino, firm’s paralegal, and unlike every other teacher you’ve ever had, I do believe there are stupid questions. Ladies, and a few gentlemen, forget what you’ve heard. I am not your secretary nor am I interested in you. I don’t care about your personal lives and I won’t get involved with you. That happened once, and I had to marry her.”  _

She winked back at him and got up from the seat behind the blond girls, walking down the stairs to join the other three at the front of the classroom. 

“ And for all that they didn’t mention, meaning student affairs, stupid questions, personal lives, dramas and tips on how to please them, you come to me. Name’s Laurel...Delfino.”

That lack of intimidation from one of the girls disappeared as she sank down in her seat, the other looking away, blushing. She continued. 

“I’m a second year student, but an expert in this class.” - she watched as the whispers and suspicious looks grew across the room - “I learned how to get away with murder… and learned blackmail, corruption, obstruction of justice...and I also learned about grit, perseverance and resilience. And yes, I also got here by sleeping with my boss. Come see me when things get rough. I have amazing outlines.”

The room erupted in a mix of nervous laughter and questioning looks that relaxed as the joke became evident. 

Annalise spoke again, the other three walking out as the students’ eyes followed them, mesmerized.

“I will NOT be teaching you how to study the law or theorize about it, but rather, how to practice it. In a courtroom. Like a real lawyer. Now, to our first case study…” 

Bonnie made a left turn out of the classroom, waving goodbye to them as she headed back to the office. 

Laurel spoke in a playful, teasing tone, questioning eyes at him.

\- Had to marry me? Had to? Really, that’s the line you go with?

__ \- What? I...I...sure I said that? _ _

\- Oh I’m sure...and by the way, where is your wedding band?

__ \- Ah, it’s, uh, in the bathroom back home, yea, got shaving cream on it so I took it out to wash, got distracted and...? _ _

 

She pulled her hand out of her purse and opened it, showing his wedding band and saying, smiling.

\- It was on the coffee table but I love the effort you made to liiie...

_ Frank let his head drop, defeated. _

__ \- How can I recover from this? _ _

 

She scoffed, then smiled again.

\- You’re fine. But change that line for future introductions. ‘Had to marry her’ doesn’t do justice to how desperate and happy you were to marry me.

\- Damn right it doesn’t. - He said as he kissed her softly.

\- I mean, spouse privilege did come in handy with Annalise after she threatened to subpoena me to testify against you if we had gone to trial, but the look on her face was almost as good as marrying you.

__ \- Almost as good? _ _

\- Almost. - she said, and it was her turn to kiss him. - I have to go back inside. You’re going back to the office?

\- Yeah. I’ll see you there later.

\- Yup. Same as usual for lunch? I’ll pick it up on my way.

\- Sure. - He said as he started to walk away, then turned back hesitantly, calling her. - Laurel?

\- Yeah? - She said as she was about to open the door.

\- Not a day goes by that I don’t think about how lucky I am to have you, how lucky I am you’re by my side and that you let me love you. I hope you know that.

She melted against the door and smiled coyly.

\- I do.

He smiled, turned around and walked fast by the clear bulletin board, not looking up.

She made a mental note of filling it up with anything that covered the dull red color of the material, then pushed the door and walked inside, looking back at Annalise.

\- What was the mens rea? Anyone? - Annalise questioned the class.

“ To Kill,” she thought, but didn’t say it out loud. 

She knew it was the students’ opportunity to learn, and they might need it.  


End file.
